


The Departure

by kesdax



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/F, F/M, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-20 06:51:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 43,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1500899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kesdax/pseuds/kesdax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Ancients hold Atlantis for more than a year before the Replicators come. A lot can happen in a year. <i>The Return</i> AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

Part One

Elizabeth Weir has had cause to question her sanity on more than one occasion. Tonight is another one of those occasions.

Don’t get her wrong, she’s grateful to Carson for kicking her up the backside and getting her out of the house, but Elizabeth still isn’t quite sure what she is doing here, in this restaurant, at this table with Rodney McKay sitting opposite her, the sound of his familiar ranting surrounding her. She glances sideways at Carson and can tell by the glazed-over look on his face that he tuned Rodney out ages ago. When it is not life or death, apparently neither one of them are capable of tolerating the self-confessed genius’ ramblings.

Elizabeth catches words like ‘inferior’ and ‘imbecile’ and wonders how she managed to cope with Rodney McKay for two and a half years in the semi-close confinement of the small city of Atlantis. She must have had the patience of a saint, she thinks, and numbly swallows a mouthful of wine.

Carson glances disapprovingly at her and she realises she’s drained most of her glass, whereas he and Rodney have only taken a few small sips. They haven’t ordered yet, they’re waiting for John to arrive, and Elizabeth knows better than to drink on an empty stomach. She can already feel the faint buzz humming in the back of her head and she knows that if she isn’t careful, she could get seriously hammered tonight before the main course is even served.

She forces herself to focus on Rodney, concentrate on his words and actually _listen_ to what he is saying. Not that she can understand what it is he is talking about anyway. His latest hand-picked project at Area 51 supposedly - astrophysics is so not her area of expertise. He talks animatedly, but it’s not with the same enthusiasm as he used to have when he was giving them the low down on some new Ancient technology they had just discovered in one of the many labs in Atlantis. She realises suddenly that she is not the only member of her former expedition to miss their home. As satisfying as it is to have the autonomy to choose his own projects, it’s not as exhilarating as investigating the Ancients or visiting other worlds.

Rodney cuts himself off mid-sentence abruptly, looking somewhere behind Elizabeth’s left shoulder. “Finally,” he grumps. “I’m about to go into hypo-glycaemic shock here.”

“Aye, I could eat a horse,” Carson agrees.

She feels him before she sees him; the solid, reliable strength of Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard as he slumps into the vacant chair beside her. He grins at them all, that same goofy grin she had gotten so used to seeing for two and a half years.

“Sorry I’m late. Traffic was a bitch.”

“Would that be normal traffic, or traffic through the Stargate?” Rodney whispers, glancing around nervously.

John rolls his eyes, graciously accepting the glass of wine Carson offers him. “Normal traffic.”

John looks at her as he takes a sip of wine, as if he is trying to commit her to memory, but she catches the fleeting glimpse of surprise in his eyes when he notices her for the first time, like he’s shocked that she’s there at all and guilt slams into her like a rock, catching the breath in her throat.

Elizabeth had avoided everyone from Atlantis, not wanting to be reminded of the pain of her home being ripped away from her, still too raw, but John had called her more than anyone, and she had ignored every single one of those phone calls, not being able to bear hearing his voice.

“Hi,” she says dumbly, and she can feel Carson’s eyes boring into her. Rodney is oblivious, of course, but not as much as she would like. She had been ignoring his calls too, not to mention the daily emails. They are worried about her, this little make-shift family of sorts that she has somehow managed to acquire. She can see it in the way John’s eyes carefully catch hers, Carson’s persistence that she come tonight, Rodney’s attempts at endless chatter to fill the silent void of awkwardness

They are worried about her and all she’s done for the past six weeks is push them away.

The guilt threatens to overwhelm her, and she drains the rest of her wine glass so that she doesn’t have to look at any of them.

John makes a stupid joke and it’s as if the awkwardness has been shattered, and they fall into easy and familiar banter.

They talk for hours, from appetizers to desert - Rodney orders the chocolate cake and also manages to finish Carson’s cheesecake, but _still_ complains that he is hungry. She even brings herself to tease Carson a bit about Cadman and is surprised to find herself laughing at Rodney’s dismay when they bring up their first kiss. They talk about nothing and everything, carefully avoiding the one subject that sits heavily in all their hearts.

And if she flirts with John a little more than normal, she blames it on the wine.

Rodney’s the one to call it a night. He is more than a little drunk and has a meeting first thing, so Carson offers to take him back to his hotel so he can sleep it off, half carrying him out of the restaurant. He offers Elizabeth a ride too, but she shakes her head, not quite trusting her legs to hold her full weight yet, and silently watches as they leave, softly bickering at each other on their way out.

She’s managed not to get too hammered, but she is more drunk than she’d like to be, and her tongue feels lose in her mouth. It’s almost like John can sense it, the way he tenses next to her like he wants to say something but is waiting for her to make the first move. She swallows hard, scared of saying something she’ll regret later, in the heavy hours of the morning, when her head is more than likely to hurt and her throat will be drier than the Sahara. She hasn’t had a hangover since college, but she also hasn’t had a decent drink in a while either. It’s a bad combination and not one she would like to experiment with. Not with John sitting by her side.

“Elizabeth…” he starts, and she can hear the strain in his voice, like it hurts just to say her goddamn name. She winces at that, the guilt thundering through her veins and she wishes she had taken up Carson’s offer of a ride home.

“I should go,” she says.

John nods, looking defeated and it takes all of Elizabeth’s willpower not to get up and run. She mutters goodbye and slowly makes her way out of the restaurant, her feet surprisingly steady. It feels like a lifetime before the cool air hits her face and she feels like she can breathe again.

She contemplates hailing a cab, but figures the walk will do her good, maybe sober her up a little. Besides, it’s been a while since she’s left the house. The air is cool and crisp, whips her hair up in messy strands and she can’t help but miss the absence of salt water getting caught up in the breeze. It seems everything reminds her of Atlantis. Home calls out to her, but she has no way of reaching it.

“Elizabeth, wait.”

It’s John. Of course, it’s John.

She can hear the hint of irritation in his voice and it is enough to propel her forwards, keep her momentum going. (She pretends that it is easy to ignore him. That it doesn’t _hurt._ )

“Would you just wait, dammit?” There’s anger in his voice that she’s heard before, but never had it directed _at_ her. She has the sudden overwhelming memory of him yelling, desperate and angry, soaked to the bone, his gun aimed just over her shoulder.

She blinks out the memories of Atlantis and Kolya and stops her feet so abruptly that John almost slams into her. She supposes she really can’t avoid him forever. So she waits, evading his eyes and silently pleading for it to be over.

“Elizabeth…” he says, his voice low as though he can tell what she is thinking. She tries not to hear the pain in his voice.

“Can I walk you home?” he asks, as if they weren’t standing in the middle of the street awkwardly avoiding each other. She nods, and they walk in silence for a few blocks.

“So,” John begins casually, “Carson says you’re writing your memoirs? I hope I’m featured in them heavily – the handsome and witty commanding military officer.” He grins cheekily and Elizabeth feels her lips twitching in response as she rolls her eyes at him.

“I just thought…” she says, suddenly serious and unsure why she feels the need to justify herself to him. “I thought… that if I wrote it all down – if it was tangible – it would somehow…”

“Make it seem real?” he offers.

“It was real,” Elizabeth snaps, shuddering as she remembers a psych ward and a world where the Stargate and Atlantis did not exist. But Atlantis was real. _It was._

“I know that,” says John quietly. “I miss it too.”

“Not like this,” she whispers. She stops walking and he carries on for a few steps before realising she’s no longer beside him. She struggles to find the words to explain how it is like she has lost a part of herself, that Atlantis is her heart and her soul, and without it she is lost. She is _nothing._ How can she explain to John Sheppard that she feels like she has failed, that she has let everyone down?

“Elizabeth… I’m worried about you. We’re all worried,” he adds, looking uncomfortable.

“I know,” she says. “But I can’t –”

“Let go?”

“Yes.”

“You have to try,” he says.

“How?”

John shrugs. “By taking it one day at a time.”

They continue walking and Elizabeth is more than a little disappointed that she is almost home. She wants to tell John how sorry she is, but can’t seem to find the right words.

“This is me,” she says when they are outside her apartment building. Her heart clenches at the look of disappointment in his face and she tries not to read too much into it.

“Look,” John says slowly, like he’s choosing his words carefully. “I don’t have any quick fix for this.”

“John, I –”

“Let me finish,” he says, his hands gripping her upper arms so she can’t turn away. “All I know is,” John continues, “is that you don’t have to go through this alone. You have friends, Elizabeth. Friends who know what you are going through. Okay?”

She nods because she doesn’t trust herself to speak and her eyes prickle uncomfortably at the honesty of his words.

“So do me a favour?” John asks and somehow his hands have slid down her arms to take her hands in his. The way her skin tingles at the contact is enough to make her agree to anything. “Answer your damn phone when we call so that I know you’re okay.”

She laughs and can feel the tears leave her eyes to track down her cheeks. She pulls away from him to wipe them away and he is polite enough to pretend not to notice. It’s a far cry from their normal relationship dynamic; her the leader and him the commanding military officer. During all those near death experiences, she doesn’t think she has ever broken down in front of him before and it seems such a silly, insignificant thing compared to what they went through in the Pegasus galaxy, compared to all the people they lost.

“Okay,” she agrees when she has finally pulled herself together enough to speak.

“Okay,” he echoes, a hint of a smile playing across his lips.

She can feel him watching her as she lets herself into her apartment building and smiles genuinely for the first time that evening.

She winces as she enters her apartment. It’s tidier than when Carson had appeared unexpectedly at her door, but it’s still not up to Elizabeth Weir’s normal standards, the Elizabeth Weir from before Atlantis. _One day at a time_ , John had said. She will start tomorrow by giving this place a good and thorough spring clean.

The phone rings and out of habit she ignores it, dumping her bag on the coffee table. But John’s words and an echo of a promise urges her into lifting the handset, her hands shaking inexplicably as she lets out a breathless “hello.”

“Just testing.”

It’s John, of course it’s John.

She smiles genuinely for the second time that night (and pushes the thought away that it is John that is bringing them out in her) and peers through the curtains of her living room window. John is on the street below, cell phone plastered to one ear and that familiar goofy grin on his face. She has missed that grin, she realises suddenly.

“Don’t you trust me?” Elizabeth asks playfully.

“With my life.” The seriousness, the absolute conviction of his words, threatens to overwhelm her. “Get some sleep, Elizabeth, I’ll talk to you soon.”

*

She spends the next few days cleaning and sorting her life out, and actually starts to look at those job offers. None of them are as enticing as Atlantis had been, but they are good offers and she knows that she could do any one of them with her eyes closed and her hands tied behind her back. And not being responsible for so many lives will be a burden off her shoulders, she tells herself.

John calls her a week after the dinner. She has already been in touch with the others. Carson had exhaled in relief when she answered and Rodney was just glad to have someone else to complain about his job to. His daily emails have doubled, most of them one liners about the idiots he has been forced to work with. It reminds her forcefully of those times in Atlantis when he would throw a fit when he didn’t get his own way. She is not the least bit ashamed to find she is a little bit bitter that she can no longer play the boss card to shut him up, but she replies to his emails diplomatically anyway.

She is surprised at how nervous she feels when she sees John’s name on the caller ID and she answers the phone with more than a little trepidation.

John invites her to dinner and it takes very little persuasive discourse from him for her to agree. She tells herself it isn't a date, but in her head she is already panicking about what to wear.

*

John's idea of dinner is two hotdogs and a trip to the fair. She flat out refuses to go on the Ferris wheel, but when he turns it into a dare her pride gets the better of her and she winds up gripping his arm as their carriage lurches ominously when the wheel stops near the top to let more passengers on board at the bottom.

"Don’t," she warns. Her eyes are tight shut but she can _feel_ his lips twitching as he tries not to laugh at her discomfort.

"You can cope with puddle-jumpers but not one tiny old Ferris wheel?"

"Old," she repeats, as the carriage creaks loudly, "is the optimum word."

She's not prone to motion sickness but she can feel the half-digested hotdog churning in her stomach. It would serve John right for putting her through this if she threw up on him.

"Besides," she adds, "the puddle-jumpers had inertial dampeners."

He chuckles softly but doesn't say anything more until they're safely back on firm ground.

"I'm sorry," he says, when her stomach has settled enough and she can actually stand up right without wanting to hurl.

"Why?" she asks, confused by John's sudden quiet.

"You're not exactly having the best time."

She stops short. No matter how long and hard she told herself this wasn't a date, this was just two friends hanging out, John thought otherwise. He looks so disappointed; looks so much like he would rather the world just swallow him up than be here, with her.

"John, I-"

"I'll take you home," he says, avoiding her gaze.

The car journey is silent. Elizabeth tries to make some attempt at conversation but John’s resolute silence deters her after a while and she gives up, resting her head against the window, watching as the streets pass and wondering where the hell everything went wrong. She feels all the anger and resentment she has been harbouring for the past six weeks rise to the surface and part of her wants to snap at John, lay the blame at his feet for how fucked up her life has suddenly become. It would be unfair though, she knows. He was just as reluctant, just as furious at having to leave Atlantis as she was. But it doesn't stop her from wanting to lash out, for resenting everything he represents about their time on Atlantis. He is a constant reminder of what she has lost and it leaves a bitter taste in the back of Elizabeth's throat.

John stops the car outside her apartment building and the deafening silence now that the engine is off is enough to make her wince. She wants to say something, anything, but somehow words are lost to her and she wonders what happened to that smooth negotiator who knows six languages, the diplomat who could talk her way out of anything.

She mutters an intelligible goodbye as she exits the car, forces herself to walk calmly to her building and not run like all her instincts are telling her to.

"Elizabeth, wait." John is halfway out of the car when she turns around, a determined look on his face and she wonders what he was thinking about on that seemingly long journey home.  He steps up to her, impossibly close and looks like he has decided something, something important, in just those few steps.

"John, I-" She wants to tell him how Atlantis sits heavy in her heart. How when she looks at him she is both comforted and painfully reminded of what she has lost. But he doesn't let her.

"I hate this," he says and she doesn't know if he is talking about Atlantis or them or both. "I miss you," he whispers and Elizabeth's heart misses a beat.

"John..." she warns, because this is territory they've avoided for two years and she doesn't think she is ready for it yet.

"Elizabeth," he says and there is so much weight in that word, so much frustration and time wasted on following protocol and the burdens of command. She is too busy trying to decipher the look in his eyes that she misses the step he takes to close the distance between them and is too startled by his lips crashing against hers to react with anything more than a soft moan at the sudden jolt of electricity running through her veins.

John pulls away, and to Elizabeth, the short distance between them feels impossibly long and she is left feeling like she has been left out in the cold for too long.

"I've been waiting two and half years to do that," John says lightly. He plays it up as a joke but his eyes search hers all the same, as if he’s worried he has stepped too far this time, breached that invisible line they had drawn up between them when she first promoted him to commanding military officer. She is not sure what her face is telling him, she feels like an open book and she tries to school her features as she fumbles desperately to figure out what the hell it is she is feeling.

"I'm sorry," John says timidly and takes an obvious step backwards. "I shouldn't have-"

Elizabeth cuts him off with a well-placed kiss on his lips. She doesn't know exactly what it is she is feeling, what she feels about _him_ , all she knows is that she would be lying and kidding herself if she said she hadn't thought about this before, kissing him - with no rules and no regulations to inhibit them.

She barely brushes her lips against his before she is pulling away again, but is relieved to see the cocky quirk of his lips.

"Normally I don't kiss a guy until at least the second date."

"So, this _is_ a date?" John says. His hands have gripped her waist and it’s like fire burning her skin even through the layers of clothing.

She shrugs. "I don't know, John, you tell me."

"The next one will be better," he promises.

"Next one?" Her eyebrow rises at his assumption.

"Yeah, the next one," he says with that cocky confidence she is familiar with.

"The next one," she echoes and finds herself nodding in agreement. If she’s honest, she has missed him too these past six weeks. She's missed all of them – Rodney and Carson, Ronon and Teyla (who she wonders if she will ever see again.) But mostly she has missed John, the way he always had her back. That unflappable trust they shared. She misses his solid presence, the smell of him and his ridiculous hair. She doesn’t want to lose him and she’d rather not risk their friendship over a relationship she isn’t sure will even work.

It’s like he can read her mind, can tell what she is thinking just by looking at her. John grips her hands in his, forces her to look at him with his jaw set determinedly.

“Friday, 7 o’clock,” he says. “It’s a date. I’ll pick you up.”

*

Two dates turns into three, then four, then five until they are spending every evening together whenever John can get away from the SGC. They are taking things slow, now that they have got all the time in the world and Elizabeth is content to go with the flow. Compared to the uncertainty surrounding the rest of her life, this thing with John feels like the most stable thing in her world. Whatever that _thing_ may be.

They slip into a routine where he either brings over take out or cooks (a talent she hadn’t expected John Sheppard to have, but damn the man can cook) but he never stays the night. They spend most evenings pretending to watch crap TV whilst making out on her couch like teenagers and John always stops _just_ when things start to get interesting. Elizabeth never expected John Sheppard, of all people, to have that much self-control, and wonders silently when they are going to hit third base already.

John's hands slip away from underneath her shirt and she lets out an exaggerated sigh as she moves from straddling his lap to sitting beside him on the couch breathing erratically, the ghost of his touch still tingling on her skin. It was his idea, this not rushing into things deal they've got going on. And whilst she thinks it's sweet, and knows it cost him a lot to admit that this relationship means more to him than any he's had before, where he rushed into things and ultimately screwed things up, part of her just wants John Sheppard naked and in her bed. It is intense, this desire she has for him, and she does wonder how they managed to hold out for two years on Atlantis without jumping each other’s bones.

But she is content to wait, and listens to him talk about work and how much he dislikes his new team. He can’t tell her much, she no longer has security clearance, but she can tell things are not going well. She plays with the buttons of his shirt idly and finds that she likes listening to him talk, likes _this_ ; just being with him, breathing him in without having to worry about running a city or when the next wraith attack might be. She feels like she could actually be happy, like they might actually make this work. It scares her a little, but then John kisses her goodnight and it feels like they can beat anything.

He's going off-world for a week; she doesn't ask where and knows he can't say anyway. She tries not worry, but she remembers all those near misses on Atlantis and knows how reckless he can be. He kisses her long and hard and tells her he'll see her soon.

Elizabeth busies herself with work and her new job at the UN, and spends most of her time catching up with what’s happened in the world since she’s been living in another galaxy.

*

She meets Carson for lunch two days after John is overdue to return back to Earth.

“How’s the new job?” Carson asks.

“It’s good,” she lies.

“Aye? Still writing your memoirs?” he asks, with a twinkle in his eyes.

She rolls her eyes at him and smirks a little. Okay, so maybe recording everything that happened in Atlantis was a bad idea, and both the SGC and the IOA would probably have something to say about it if either of them found out anyway. She’s still irked by the teasing though and makes a mental note to bring Cadman up later just so she can see Carson squirm for once.

Her thoughts turn more serious and she changes the subject to what she really arranged this lunch for.

“I haven’t heard from John in while.”

Carson grunts into his Cobb salad and she almost feels bad for putting him in this position.

“He’s off-world,” says Carson.

“I know,” Elizabeth says pointedly.

“Elizabeth, you know I can’t tell you anything.”

“Carson,” she pleads. He stares at her for a while, his lunch forgotten. She wonders if he knows what she and John have become, that they are dating now. She and John haven’t discussed it, but they seemed to have made a silent agreement not to tell their friends until they had it figured out for themselves in their own heads. She almost tells Carson everything there and then, wants nothing more than to get this burden of feelings off her chest.

Carson must see something in her eyes because he sighs heavily and fiddles with his fork as he gathers his thoughts.

“They called for back-up three days ago,” he says, “SG-4 went in after them.”

“And John’s okay?” she asks, hating the way her voice sounds, the way it betrays everything.

Carson nods. “He’s the one that called for back-up. I’m sure he’s fine,” he adds. “I can’t tell you more than that.”

“Is it Goa’uld?”

“Elizabeth…” Carson warns. “I’ve already told you too much.”

“I know,” she says, “and I’m grateful. Thank you, Carson.”

*

John comes home two days later. She knows it’s him because who else would be knocking at her door at two in the morning.

He looks pale, standing there in her doorway, his eyes dark with something that she can’t quite read. There are scratches all over his face and a bandage wrapped around his left wrist. She can tell he’s been through hell.

Elizabeth doesn’t think he has looked more beautiful.

He doesn’t say anything as he steps through the threshold and moves towards her. He doesn’t have to. His lips grab hers with more violence than expected and he has her pressed up against the wall while his hands explore under her shirt. She lets out a startled moan and, if anything, it only spurs him on more.

His thumb brushes across her nipple and she tries not to think about how long it’s been since she was with a man as his touch sends a jolt of electricity through her that instantly makes heat pool between her thighs.

They are going way too fast, John’s kisses turning frantic as he moves his attention from her lips to trail kisses down her neck and towards her collar bone and right to that spot where –

She gasps and John presses tighter against her and she can feel him hard and warm against her thigh. His fingers move lower, slipping underneath the waistband of her pyjamas and it is ridiculous how wet she is already. She closes her eyes in anticipation but his movements still and she opens them again to find him staring at her intently, seeking permission.

There’s still that edge there, in his look, that darkness she can’t read. She wonders what happened to him off-world to make him revoke his own ‘taking it slow’ pact that he’s made with himself. It scares her, this intensity, and she knows instinctively that he almost died out there, somewhere so far away from home and it makes her heart clench in her throat.

“John,” she breathes and it’s everything he needs to get his fingers working and his lips on hers, his tongue fighting a dance with her own.

She moans when his fingers find her clit, her hips bucking into his and she can’t quite believe that it’s _John Sheppard_ fucking her against a wall. She comes hard, the orgasm ripping through her and she’s only still standing because John’s hands are tight around her waist.

“Bedroom,” she orders, because she needs him inside of her more than she’s ever needed anything ever. He doesn’t argue, and they stumble blindly in the direction of her bedroom. John kicks off his shoes, removing as much clothing as possible.

John pushes her onto the bed gently and removes the last of her clothing and just stares at her naked form, so intently, with such desire, that it makes her flush red.

He licks his lips before covering her right nipple and she runs her hands through his hair as she gasps in pleasure. He seems to have lost that frantic edge, and takes his time exploring every inch of her skin, working her up and making her whimper with the lack of friction between her thighs.

Just when she thinks she can’t take anymore, his lips and tongue move upwards until they are eye to eye. She lifts her head up slightly, captures his mouth in a hungry kiss and guides him towards her entrance, feeling him throb in anticipation.

When he enters her, it’s like her whole world comes together. Then they are moving in a steady rhythm and all she can think about his him, her senses narrowed down to the feel of him inside her and the sound of his laboured breathing mingled with her own.

They come within seconds of each other; Elizabeth with a cry, her voice barely recognisable and John with a grunt that seems to take all the energy out of him. He rests his forehead against hers and they lie like that for a while, breathing heavily, taking in the smell of each other, sweat and sex.

John looks exhausted and she kisses him softly, without need, just reassurance, and he rolls off of her to his side and is asleep within moments. Elizabeth watches him carefully, taking in every inch of him; the toned muscles across his chest, slick with sweat, the scrapes and bruises littered about his body and she wonders what happened to him, finds she doesn’t really need to know and doubts he would tell her even if he could, even if it wasn’t classified. She’s not his boss anymore, he doesn’t have to give her detailed accounts of his missions and she finds, now that they’ve stepped across that barrier separating them from friends to lovers, she doesn’t _want_ to know. She’s secure enough in the knowledge that he’s home, safe and in her arms.

*

Elizabeth wakes up to sunlight peeking through her bedroom curtains and John scanning her face carefully. She wonders how long he’s been awake, watching her sleep and is pleasantly surprised to find the absence of any morning-after awkwardness she has experienced before with other men. Waking up to find John Sheppard in her bed feels right, like they’ve done this a million times before, like this is right where they are both meant to be.

“Hi,” says John. It’s the first thing he has said since coming home and his voice is raspy with disuse.

“Hi yourself.”

“I’m hungry,” he says, “are you hungry?”

“Nope,” she replies and moves so that she is straddling his waist. “Definitely not hungry,” she says and kisses him.

The morning after sex is pretty good too.

*

Without either of them realising, most of John’s stuff materialises in her apartment and they are practically living together as naturally as any two people could. Neither of them questions it and they don’t talk about what their relationship _is_ exactly and it seems to suit them both just fine.

John continues to go off-world and Elizabeth travels around the globe for the UN, both of them saving the world in their own small way.

They’ve been dating for three months (living together for half that time) when Rodney’s next in town and they meet up for dinner, John and Carson dragging a reluctant Samantha Carter along from the SGC, claiming that she needs to get out more.

“Doctor’s orders,” says Carson.

Colonel Carter looks more than a little dismayed at having to spend the evening with Rodney McKay of all people, but quickly settles into polite conversation with Elizabeth when the wine starts flowing and soon they are all talking and laughing and it’s nothing like the last meal they had when Rodney was last in town. For one thing, Elizabeth’s not humming with nervous energy, twitching to leave but is instead filled with a pleasant buzz and wishing the night will never end.

John’s foot starts playing with hers and she can tell by the smug smirk on his face that he’s up to something. When his hand starts moving up her thigh, its direction not at all appropriate for the this façade of friendship they are supposed to be displaying, she knows he’s deliberately trying to get a rise out of her. John Sheppard can be a right smug bastard when he wants to be.

But two can play at that game. His hand slips away when he turns to answer a question from Carson, and Elizabeth slinks her hand along length of him and back, causing John to jump.

She grins wickedly behind her wine glass, oblivious to the look Carson shoots them both as she listens in to the heated, but playful, argument between McKay and Carter over chronology protection conjecture.

When she returns from the bathroom sometime later, John’s arms grab her around the waist, pulling her into a discrete alcove down a darkened corridor of the restaurant.

“That was mean,” he says.

“John Sheppard, I have _no_ idea what you are talking about,” says Elizabeth, her breathing laboured as John’s body tightens up against her when he leans in closer. “Besides,” she adds, “you started it.”

“You practically gave me a hand job under the dinner table!”

“Hardly,” she scoffs playfully.

John kisses her neck and she can tell their dinner table antics have gotten him worked up.

“Do you think anyone noticed?” she asks sensibly, before her hormones take over her brain functions and all propriety flies out the window. She glances around absently; they are quite alone in this section of the restaurant, but her practical side forces her to push John away slightly from his ministrations below her left earlobe.

John opens his mouth to reply, but his phone goes off and he pulls it out of his pocket, frowning absently at the display.

“It’s a text from Carson,” he says.

“Oh?” she says, but is too busy working her fingers underneath John’s shirt to really care. Her fingers still when John’s entire body tenses. “What?” she asks.

“It says, ‘we’re headed off, but I’m sure you two would rather be alone anyway.’”

Elizabeth’s mouth forms a silent ‘Oh’ and her cheeks flush red. “So someone did notice.”

“Yeah,” John agrees.

“So much for keeping this quiet.”

“Well,” says John carefully, “I suppose we had to tell our friends at some point.”

“I suppose,” she agrees, but it doesn’t stop the wave of embarrassment at the thought of Carson seeing what her wandering hand got up to.

“Hey,” says John, “you okay about this?”

She nods. “Actually, I’m more than okay.”

John grins.

*

The next time she sees Carson, he doesn’t mention their impropriety, only mutters “it’s about bloody time” and doesn’t bring the subject up again. She recalls absently the Atlantis rumour mill and wonders how many of their old friends and co-workers will remain unsurprised at the development of John and Elizabeth’s relationship.

Rodney doesn’t take the news nearly as well as Carson. In fact, he seems downright outraged about the whole thing. Elizabeth doesn’t take it personally. Instead, she rather suspects that Rodney is worried about losing his friendship with John more than anything else. So when he’s next in town, she invites him over to stay, much to John’s surprise and annoyance.

“You know he’s gonna be a pain in the ass at breakfast, right?”

Elizabeth rolls her eyes.

“And he’ll probably complain about the sheets,” John adds. “Not to mention the purity of the air or something else just as anal.”

“John,” she scolds, “shut up.”

When she answers her door an hour later, she’s not expecting the perky young blonde attached to Rodney’s arm.

“This is Gabby, my research assistant,” Rodney introduces. “Thought we could make this evening a foursome.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Elizabeth says, startled. She shoots John a look, but he just shrugs in confusion.

“Gabby and I have been working hard on fine tuning the gravitational torsion flux equations and thought we could both do with a break…” Rodney launches into a detailed and thorough description of his latest project that goes right over Elizabeth’s head and, she suspects, John’s as well, going by the dumbfounded look on his face.

Gabby interjects every now and then to add something or, occasionally, correct something. And, completely uncharacteristic to Rodney McKay’s usual ego, he accepts her amendments graciously before moving on with the rest of his story which Elizabeth had lost track of in what feels like, to her, hours ago.

Later, with Rodney and Gabby safely ensconced in her living room drinking wine as John and Elizabeth prepare dinner, John asks, "you think they're..." he gestures vaguely, "you know... _you know_."

Elizabeth shrugs. "She's a little young for him, isn't she?" She snatches a glance at the blonde through the kitchen door. "She can't be older than twenty-five."

"Yeah, but she's hot," says John without thinking.

Elizabeth raises an eyebrow.

"I mean," he sputters, "she's not as hot as you, obviously... Not that I've been comparing you or anything... Or even looking at her that way..."

"John," she says, "shut up."

*

Dinner is pleasant enough, and Gabby holds her own with the conversation; she's smart and funny and reminds Elizabeth a little of Sam Carter and she wonders absently if Rodney is searching for a carbon copy since the real Samantha Carter is off limits to him.

The girl can also drink too and they make their way through three bottles of wine before Elizabeth calls it a night.

"Yeah, I think we'll hit the hay too," says Rodney.

"Oh, so you're sharing the bed then?" asks John none too subtly. Elizabeth elbows him in the ribs and shimmies him into their own room before Rodney can reply.

Elizabeth relaxes into the pillows and plays idly with the hem of John’s shirt, brain far too wired from alcohol to be able to sleep. John dozes lightly, but she can tell he’s not that far gone into blissful sleep yet when a tell-tale thud from the room next door causes his eyes to snap open.

“Oh, tell me they’re not,” he says.

“They are,” she says, as the thuds level out into a steady rhythm, punctuated by the occasional moan and groan.

“Oh _God_ ,” John says, burying his head under a pillow, futilely trying to drown the noise out.

Elizabeth giggles into the crook of his neck and when he holds the pillow up just far enough to glare at her, the horrified look on his face does nothing but send a fresh wave of mirth through her.

“Guess that answers that question,” she says, biting her lip to keep from laughing.

“This is horrible,” John complains.

John’s face turns from horrified to disgusted when a particularly loud moan makes its way through the bedroom wall.

“Oh, please tell me that was her and not him.”

*

“Good morning!” Rodney says brightly.

Elizabeth returns the greeting and wordlessly passes John a mug of coffee. He’s grumpy and tired and the glare he shoots Rodney would be deadly if looks could kill. She bites her lip in a vain attempt to keep from laughing, but can’t help the cheeky grin that fills her face. She can’t help but see the funny side of this, even whilst John looks scarred for life and in no way pleased about having heard that much detail of Rodney McKay’s coital exploits.

“Everyone sleep well?” Rodney asks absently, accepting his own cup of coffee from Elizabeth.

“No,” says John and scowls into his mug.

“Yes,” says Elizabeth and nudges John in the shoulder with a warning look.

Rodney, however, is oblivious and chatters freely in that incessant way he has.

Sometime later, after Rodney and Gabby make their goodbyes and they all promise to do this again soon, John declares adamantly that they are never _ever_ inviting Rodney over again and spends the rest of the day with his headphones in, listening to Johnny Cash at full blast in an attempt to drown out the memories of the sound of Rodney’s moans.

*

“Groupie syndrome,” says John knowingly.

“That’s no’ a thing.”

“It’s a thing.”

“No, it’s not,” says Carson, “you just made it up.”

It’s a week later and John and Elizabeth are at dinner celebrating Carson’s birthday.

“Why can’t you just accept that Rodney has a girlfriend?” asks Carson.

“Because,” says John, lounging lazily on his chair. “She’s a ten and he’s a two.”

Carson rolls his eyes.

“Oh, she’s a ten is she?” Elizabeth asks, quirking her eyebrow at him playfully.

“You’re a twelve, babe, through and through,” he assures her.

“Okay then, enlighten us,” says Carson, “what is ‘groupie syndrome?’”

“Groupie syndrome,” says John as if it should be obvious. Elizabeth and Carson both shoot him a blank look. “You know, groupies… they get obsessively… _obsessed…_ with something, in this case Rodney’s sciency stuff, and now she’s obsessed with him.”

“Are you buying this?” Carson asks her.

Elizabeth shakes her head, but she’s smiling fondly at John’s antics anyway.

“It’s gonna end in tears,” John says perceptively.

*

John’s right, it does end in tears.

“Three months of work – sabotaged!” Rodney complains loudly through the phone that John is holding lightly against his ear. Elizabeth can hear his voice from the other end of the room and watches as John winces when Rodney plunges into another diatribe about Gabby’s destruction of his work, muttering “uh-huh” and other noncommittal noises when there is a lull in Rodney’s tirade.

“Well, Rodney,” says John reasonably, “that’s what you get when you sleep with someone you work with.”

She’s not certain, but she’s fairly sure she hears her name and John’s entire body freezes, clutching the phone with barely controlled anger.

“Well, _Rodney,_ ” he says through gritted teeth, “if you’re going to be like that, we can just end this conversation right now.”

“Fine!” Rodney’s voice snaps through the phone.

“Fine,” John bites back and hangs up the phone more violently than necessary.

“What was that about?” Elizabeth asks.

John gets up to pace the length of the living room, running a hand through his already mussed up hair, making it ten times worse.

“Rodney,” he spits, “seems to think that you and I didn’t exactly have an above board working relationship.”

She raises an eyebrow at that. “John Sheppard,” she says playfully, “you know I love it when you defend my honour.”

John grimaces, his hand stilling in his hair and she realises belatedly what she just said. It’s a word neither of them tosses around lightly, and it hangs between them uneasily, silently mocking their inability to define what is going on between them.

“Well,” she says, trying to break the ice. “I better make a start on dinner.” The sheer domesticity of that sentence seems to make things worse and she cringes inwardly even as she makes her way into the kitchen to hide.

*

Elizabeth spends Christmas at her mothers. It’s the first Christmas since Atlantis that she’s been home and she spends the whole time wishing John was there with her. He’s off-world somewhere breaking in his new team but he promised he’d be back by New Year.

Carson throws a Hogmanay party, as he calls it, and she swears half of the guests are Atlantis alumni as she spies Cadman and Doctor Heightmeyer in a corner across the room, heads ducked close and talking animatedly.

“I didn’t invite half these people,” Carson complains as he frantically picks up empty beer bottles and cans after his unruly guests.

Elizabeth laughs as she sips her drink and waves hello to a ragingly drunk Major Lorne. She’s pretty sure the military man doesn’t recognise her as he stumbles for another drink, crashing into Carson’s coffee table and spilling beer all over Cadman and Heightmeyer. Elizabeth winces in sympathy on their behalf and turns around to find Rodney beaming at her whilst gripping a dishevelled looking Radek Zelenka tightly by the elbow.

“Look who I found!” Rodney calls loudly, trying to make himself heard over Carson’s music system.

“Doctor Weir!” exclaims Zelenka. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” she says, giving him a one armed hug, “and call me Elizabeth.”

Rodney moves off to find some drinks, leaving Zelenka to try out the feel of her name on his lips.

“Wow, great party,” Zelenka says, “although Carson looks a bit stressed.”

Elizabeth nods and watches Carson as he agitatedly stops a young officer, who used to work Atlantis’ security detail she recalls, from pouring beer into Carson’s turtle tank.

The three of them make small talk for a while before Zelenka goes over to catch up with the Atlantis technician Chuck.

“Just like the old days,” Rodney notes wistfully, as the party starts to get in full swing. “Uh…” Rodney adds awkwardly.

But Elizabeth just shakes her head, fully aware of the late night gatherings that used to occur on Atlantis, homemade hooch and all. As the boss, she was never invited, and she let it carry on without comment secure in the knowledge that if things got out of hand, John would have shut it down immediately. Besides, her people had needed to let off steam once in a while. Thinking of Atlantis turns her mood sour and she’s grateful when Rodney changes the subject.

“Where’s Sheppard?” he asks.

“He’s working,” she replies, “he should be here soon.”

Rodney grunts and Elizabeth tries not to roll her eyes. Neither of them have spoken to each other since that night on the phone and their petty melodrama is starting to grate on her nerves.

“Oh God,” says Carson, coming up behind them. “This is exhausting.”

“Have a drink, Carson,” Elizabeth orders, “enjoy yourself.”

“Love, I couldn’t enjoy myself right now if a dancing clown came in and tossed me a bottle of 25 year old Glenlivet single malt.”

“Funny you should say that,” says a voice behind them.

“John!” says Elizabeth and is pretty sure her smile is bright enough light up Carson’s Christmas tree.

“The dancing clown - in the flesh,” John says, mock bowing. “Happy new year, Carson.” John thrusts the bottle of whisky into the doctor’s startled hands. “Don’t drink it all at once.”

“Where did you get this?” Carson asks, dumfounded.

“Don’t ask, don’t tell,” John says mysteriously.

“Can I see that?” Rodney asks, stretching his hand towards the bottle.

“No,” Carson says and hugs it protectively against his chest. “Get your own.”

“Oh, come on,” says Rodney.

Elizabeth doesn’t hear the rest of the argument as Carson marches off to the safety of his kitchen, Rodney hot his heels. Her attention turns to John and she forgets about her surroundings, the party and the guests.

“Hey you,” she says as John pulls her towards him. “Good trip?”

“Hi,” he says and leans in for a kiss. “Can’t say.”

She nods in understanding and deepens the kiss, making sure he knows just how much she’s missed him since he’s been gone. They bounce apart as one of Carson’s couch cushions goes flying over their heads, narrowly missing a framed photograph of Carson and his mother perched precariously on a shelf. John frowns in annoyance and glances around the room.

“Wow,” he says, “it looks like half of Atlantis turned up.”

Elizabeth nods and tries not to think of two of Atlantis’ finest who aren’t here tonight. Instead, she says lightly, “you’re late.”

John flips her his most endearing grin. “I got here before midnight, didn’t I?”

She checks her watch, completely oblivious to how much time has passed and is surprised that there is only four minutes of the year left. She hadn’t realised how much she had been enjoying herself, catching up with old colleagues.

“Hey, you okay?” John asks, nudging her shoulder slightly as he entwines their fingers.

She nods absently and tries not to think about all that she has lost. It’s been five months since the Ancients returned to Atlantis and she still can’t quite get rid of the feeling that it had been a mistake to relinquish the city so easily.

John tugs her closer, snaking an arm around her waist and placing a light kiss on the top of her head.

“People will talk,” she mutters as she sees Heightmeyer grinning at them knowingly from across the room. She shoots back her own knowing look when Cadman leans in close to whisper something in Heightmeyer’s ear.

“Let them,” John says. “Besides, Rodney’s probably opened his big mouth by now anyway.”

“Are you ever going to start talking to each other again?” she asks, already knowing the answer.

“I will when he apologises,” John says childishly.

“Do you really want to start the New Year fighting?”

“Hmm,” he grumbles.

“John?”

“There’s like two minutes left!” he complains. She gives him _that_ look, the one she reserves for only these kinds of moments. The look she used to give him and Rodney on Atlantis when they came up with some hare-brained scheme that was probably going to get them all killed.

“Fine,” he says eventually, “I’ll go talk to him.”

He returns a moment later with a tumbler full of what she presumes is Glenlivet 25, Carson and Rodney following him with a glass of their own each.

“Friends again?” she asks.

“I suppose,” John says, long-sufferingly.

“Yes,” Rodney agrees, “now that Sheppard has finally realised he was in the wrong.”

“ _I_ was in the wrong?” John splutters.

“Admit it,” says Rodney, voice rising, “you never liked Gabby and couldn’t wait for our relationship fail.”

“She trashed your big spacey-wacey science project!” John exclaims.

“Boys!” Elizabeth interjects and they both quieten immediately.

“Aye, come on lads,” Carson adds, “there’s only about thirty seconds left - time to bury the hatchet don’t you think?”

John rolls his eyes in disbelief as Rodney crosses his arms aggressively and all but pouts.

“John,” Elizabeth prompts and glares when he doesn’t move.

“Fine,” he says reluctantly. “I’m sorry I doubted your relationship.”

“And Rodney,” says Elizabeth, “don’t you want to apologise to John for what you said over the phone?”

All eyes turn to Rodney and he huffs before uncrossing his arms. “I don’t know what I should be apologising for.”

“Rodney!” Elizabeth snaps and he jumps slightly, almost spilling single malt over his hand.

“Fine, I’m sorry for what I said over the phone. Happy now,” he mutters.

“Not good enough,” John insists.

“What?” Rodney cries.

Elizabeth looks at him curiously.

“Apologise to Elizabeth,” John says, staring Rodney down.

“Oh, for god sake,” Rodney mutters.

“Now,” John demands.

He rolls his eyes but turns to her anyway and says, “Elizabeth, I apologise and I hope you can forgive me,” in such a solemn voice that she has to fight hard not to laugh.

“Apology accepted, Rodney.”

“Aye, now that that horrible mess is over,” says Carson, rolling his eyes, “can we start the countdown now?” Not waiting for an answer, he darts over to his stereo to switch off the music as everyone starts to pair up for the countdown to midnight.

“By the way, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” John says, pulling Elizabeth close as a resounding “ten, nine, eight,” starts about the room.

“Oh?” she asks. Seven, six, five…

“Yeah,” says John. “I love you, Elizabeth Weir.”

He kisses her hard before she can respond and she can hear the countdown coming to an end as people start cheering all around them. There’s a few catcalls aimed in their direction and Rodney moans with embarrassment behind them muttering, “Oh, _must_ you?” in dismay.

When John finally lets her up for air she stares at him dazedly for a moment and tries not to grin teasingly when his entire body starts to twitch nervously when she doesn’t say anything.

“I – ” he starts to mumble, and begins to pull away before he notices the smile playing across her lips, his eyes narrowing slightly.

 “Well, John,” she says, aware that Rodney is only pretending to ignore them as he wishes the other guests a happy new year. “I suppose, if you’re compelling me…” She drags the moment out, for her own amusement more than anything.

She’s always enjoyed making John Sheppard squirm.

“Elizabeth…” John warns.

Almost immediately, she turns serious and all the doubts she has about their relationship, about _them_ , fade into nothing. It’s just her and John and she has no clue what the future holds for them, just knows with absolutely certainty that she loves the man in front of her.

“I love you too, John Sheppard,” she whispers and kisses him.

“You two are disgusting,” Rodney states mockingly, but there’s a lightness to his tone as he says it.

“Go away, McKay,” John says.

*

Life continues blissfully after that.

When she’s with John she can barely take her hands off him, and when either of them are away for work, there is a dull ache in her heart and she misses him so intensely that she feels like she can’t breathe sometimes.

She’s in South Korea negotiating a treaty when she gets a phone call from an unknown number. She answers it curiously and is surprised to find Samantha Carter’s voice on the other end of the line. It’s early evening here, but it must be about two in the morning back home.

She can’t fight the worry that claws at her heart and only half pays attention when she answers the knock at her hotel door.

“Is John okay?” she asks, as the room service trolley is placed in the certain of the room. She tips the guy absently as she waits for Sam’s reply and it’s only after the man is gone that she realises she hasn’t ordered any room service.

“John’s fine,” says Carter and there is a lightness in her voice that betrays a smile. “Actually he wants to talk to you.”

“How?” Elizabeth asks. “Isn’t he off-world?”

“Yep,” says Sam absently, “let me put you through.”

“Elizabeth?” His voice sounds tinny over the radio and she realises belatedly that he’s talking to her through an open Stargate. She wonders distractedly if Carter has permission for this.

“John, what’s going on?” she asks, still slightly worried, even if he does sound okay.

“Has your room service arrived yet?”

“What?” she responds. “How did you…”

“Don’t you remember what day it is?”

She recites the date, but nothing immediate jumps out at her and she frowns.

“It was cold, Carson almost killed me and General O’Neill,” he reminds her. “You wanted to get into my genes.”

“The day we met,” she says, stifling a laugh.

“Three years to the day,” he says. “Check your room service.”

She moves over to the trolley, its sole occupant one of those old fashioned silver dishes. She lifts the lid timidly and gasps.

“Oh my god.”

“I kinda wanted to do this in person,” John explains, “but this mission came up and I couldn’t get out of it… and I wanted to do it today, the anniversary of when we met… the day you changed my life and…”

“John, I –” She chokes back tears as she stares down at the diamond ring.

“And he’s a hopeless romantic,” Carter pipes up.

“Hey, this was _your_ idea,” says John. “You’re just as hopeless as me.”

Elizabeth barely hears their friendly banter, too shocked to move, let alone speak. She wonders how long he’s been planning this, who else he’s roped into it besides Carter.

“Sorry kids, gonna have to speed this up,” says Carter apologetically. “Can’t keep this wormhole open forever.”

“So what do you say, Elizabeth,” says John, “will you marry me?”

For some minutes she doesn’t say anything, just stares blindly at the ring, glinting merrily up at her and clutching the phone to her ear as if it is a lifeline.

“Elizabeth?” says Carter. “You still there?”

“Yes,” says Elizabeth.

“Yes?” John repeats, his voice tinged with supressed hope.

“Yes, I’m still here,” she says. And because there isn’t really any doubt, because she can’t imagine her life without him in it, can’t imagine not waking up to John Sheppard in her bed every morning, his hair a tousled mess and his soft kisses trailing down her neck, can’t imagine not growing old with him, making a life with him, she says: “and yes, I will marry you.”

“Yes!” cheers Carter.

“Oh, thank god,” John says, letting out a breath.

“Had you worried there for a minute, didn’t I?” Elizabeth says teasingly.

“Oh, you have no idea,” John replies and she wonders if his grin is as big as hers. “Put the ring on.”

She complies. It fits snugly onto her ring finger and she finds she likes the weight of it.

“It fit?” John asks.

“It’s perfect.”

“Sorry guys,” says Carter, “really have to cut this short.”

“Elizabeth,” John says hurriedly, “I love you and I’ll be home soon.”

“I love you too,” she says but doesn’t know if he heard her before the event horizon disengaged.

Carter congratulates her once more before cutting the connection and Elizabeth is left alone to the silence of her hotel room, the conversation of the past ten minutes a pleasant blur in her head.

She sleeps deeply that night; dreaming of John and what their future might hold. For the first time in six months, she doesn’t dream of Atlantis.

*

Okay, so wedding planner is definitely not a career move she should consider if she finally gets bored of being a diplomat. She can barely find the energy to plan her own wedding let alone anybody else’s.

John’s just as bad – he’s done the big fancy wedding thing before, and is content to let her make all the decisions. Which, so far, have been absolutely zero.

“Okay,” says Carson tiredly, “church or registry office?”

Elizabeth shrugs. Her mother would prefer she got married in a church, but the high ceilings and church pews seem too pompous for her and John.

Carson sighs heavily. “You two are rubbish at this.”

“Hey!” says John in protest, as his hand curls playfully around the nape of Elizabeth’s neck. “I’ll have you know the proposal was very romantic.”

“You proposed from the other end of the galaxy!” Carson says. “That’s no’ romantic, that’s bloody insane.”

“Hey, I said yes, didn’t I?” Elizabeth objects. “He must have done something right.”

“Aye, okay,” Carson agrees reluctantly, “but you invited me over here to help plan your wedding, no’ discuss the finer merits of marriage proposals.”

Elizabeth shrugs in agreement and leans further into John’s touch. They’ve become sickeningly sweet since getting engaged and poor Carson’s taken the brunt of it, having to suffer through them petting and kissing each other at every opportunity.

“Your no’ going to be one of those couples who stays engaged for five years, are you?” Carson asks.

“No,” John responds. “Hey!” he says suddenly, “we could do Vegas.”

“Ooh,” says Elizabeth encouragingly.

“No,” says Carson firmly, “you’re no’ getting married it Vegas. It’ll be bad enough synchronising everyone’s days off without moving the bloody thing to Vegas. And you’ve no’ even decided on a bloody date yet!”

“So,” John shrugs, “it’ll just be us, then.”

“John,” says Carson slowly, “do you really want to get married to the love of your life in some cheap knock-off church in the desert, with a bad Elvis impersonator and some smelly old woman?”

John raises an eyebrow. “Are you speaking from experience, Carson?”

Carson rolls his eyes. “I wish you two would take this bloody seriously.”

“We are,” says Elizabeth.

“We get you’re point about the Vegas thing,” says John and Elizabeth nods. “Vegas is out.”

“Oh, thank god for small mercies,” says Carson sarcastically.

“Look,” says Elizabeth more seriously, “I was just never one of those girls who dreamed about a big white wedding.”

“What, you never dreamed about what your wedding dress would look like when you were a wee girl?” Carson asks in disbelief.

Elizabeth shakes her head. She was too busy dreaming about world peace and learning how to speak French.

“Carson,” says John, overly serious, “were _you_ one of those girls who dreamed about what their wedding dress was going to look like?”

“Oh, I’ve had enough of this,” Carson fumes, throwing his hand up in the air in exasperation before storming out of the apartment.

“Oh, Carson, don’t go,” Elizabeth calls half-heartedly after the retreating Scotsman.

“I love winding his Scottish panties in a twist,” says John absently.

“They call them knickers in Scotland,” Elizabeth points out.

“I’m not even gonna ask how you know that.”

It's not like they are trying to be difficult, but they’re both practical people and the pomp and fuss that surrounds most weddings doesn't suit them. They spend the time just enjoying their engagement and it's only when her mother starts to nag her to set a date that she and John finally look at their calendars and try to find a day that she's in the country and he's on the planet.

Her mother is thrilled by the news and declares that she can’t wait to meet the man who has finally got her daughter to settle down. Elizabeth skims over the details of how she and John met and only feels slightly guilty about lying to her mother.

Carson only starts speaking to them again when they both promise not to discuss the wedding plans with him, or in front of him, so they are stuck planning the small ceremony themselves. They keep it simple. John’s parents are both dead, so it's just her mother and their closest friends on the invites and Elizabeth finds she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Somehow, Rodney must have found about Carson's little stint as wedding planner because he sends Elizabeth a very long email with fifty attachments detailing the best wedding cakes, what flowers are best this time of year and the top ten wedding locations of all time.

"I think he's vying for best man position," Elizabeth remarks.

"Best man?" says John "I never even thought about it..."

He spends the next two weeks in a dilemma with himself as he tries to decide which of his two best friends gets the top spot.

*

The walls of the Cheyenne mountain base are more drab than she remembers. The SGC have called her in to do some consultancy work and it feels strange to be this close to a Stargate again, to the Air Force men and woman going about their business. She finishes her meeting with Doctor Jackson and tracks the familiar halls. She still remembers her way about from her short stint at running the place and finds herself in the infirmary.

Carson's familiar form in his white lab coat, looking haggard is a jarring sight. It reminds her violently of Atlantis when she used to hover behind the doctor waiting for a diagnosis on the status of John and his team. It's so vivid, those memories, that she has to take a moment to gather her strength.

Carson smiles when he sees her, mutters something to a passing nurse and heads over towards her.

"Heard you were coming in today," says Carson. "Good to be back?"

"Strange to be back," she says.

"Aye, I can imagine," he says and smiles at her wistfully.

"Have you seen John?"

"He's getting his ass handed to him by Lieutenant Cadman."

She raises an eyebrow as Carson leads her out of the infirmary.

"Her words, no' mine," he adds.

"You'll be happy to know we finally set a date," she says.

"Aye, I heard," says Carson. "Only a few a weeks away - you getting nervous yet?"

"No," she says and he shoots her a look like he doesn't believe her.

"You two are taking this all very casually, if you don't mind me saying," says Carson.

She shrugs. "I guess we're just meant to be. We don't need some fancy ceremony to prove that."

"Well, I could have told you that."

Elizabeth smiles warmly at him as he leads her into the base's gym. Officers line the sides, enthralled by the work-out session between John and Cadman and letting out the occasional groans of sympathy when the lieutenant manages to get the upper hand on John. They arrive just as Cadman flips John onto his back in an impressive display of strength.  Cadman holds him down with her knee placed squarely on the centre of his chest and pins John's arms to his sides.

"You ready to give up yet, sir?"

"I think you broke something," John groans.

"Well, I'd stay and kick your ass some more," says Cadman, "but I'd hate to make you look bad in front of your future wife."

John’s head snaps up. "Hey," he says seeing Elizabeth at the door. Cadman finally moves and he struggles pathetically to his feet. Elizabeth tries not to laugh at the smug grin on Cadman's face as she leaves to hit the showers.

"That wee woman is terrifying," says Carson.

John limps over to them, trying to look casual and failing miserably as he winces in pain.

"You must be mad to take her on," Carson observes. "You should let me take a look at you."

"I'm fine," says John pulling a face. "Just a few bruises."

"Not to mention the slightly bruised ego," Elizabeth adds smirking.

"Aye, we are talking about the same woman who took Teal'C on last week and beat him," says Carson.

"I'm still pretty sure he was going easy on her that day."

"Whatever you need to tell yourself, Colonel,” says Carson. He bids them both goodbye and heads back to the infirmary, shaking his head and muttering under his breath.

John gives her a quick peck hello only to be followed by a round of jeering and catcalls from his fellow Airmen. He turns around, glaring at them all. "Don't you people have work to do?" he grunts, but the edge is taken out of his voice as he winces slightly in pain.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Elizabeth asks concerned.

John nods and leads her away from the gym. He takes her to lunch at the SGC mess hall, raving about the pecan pie and she doesn't think his ego is too badly damaged. Besides, it's not the first time he has been beaten up by a girl, she recalls fondly, thinking of those times Teyla used to beat him at Athosian stick fighting. Teyla was just more gracious at winning than Cadman, it seems.

The pie is good, better than anything Atlantis' mess hall ever produced. The coffee - not so much.

"Have you decided on a best man yet?" she asks, taking a sip of coffee and trying not to grimace.

"No," he replies, "but I've narrowed it down."

Elizabeth raises an eyebrow, intrigued, as John pulls a wad of papers out of his pocket.

"Pros and cons list," he says as he hands them over to her before shoving another forkful of pie into his mouth.

Elizabeth flips through the pages. "Rodney's con list is three pages long!" she exclaims.

John shrugs nonchalantly. "What can I say, he's annoying."

Elizabeth scans down the list of cons that range from 'he talks too much' to 'he insults my intelligence.'

"'He shot me that one time,'" Elizabeth recites, "weren't you possessed by an alien entity?"

"So were you and he never shot you," he counters.

Elizabeth lets the comment slide; her time trapped in her own body by the alien Phoebus is not something she likes to think about. The embarrassment surrounding the fact that she shot half her security teams, not to mention that kiss with John in front of Colonel Caldwell of all people, is enough to make her flush red. John, however, never seems as bothered by that experience as she is. In fact, now that they are together, he likes to joke about it as their first kiss, and pretends to smile fondly at the memory whilst she tries not to think about those few days afterwards when Phoebus had finally let go, when her dreams had been filled with vivid memories of violence and that one time of hot, angry sex that Phoebus and Thalan had allowed themselves to have. And because she had never met Thalan, her mind had put John in his place. She couldn't look the colonel in the eye for a week after that. She's never told John any of this, but she suspects he was probably plagued by the same memories as she was for a while.

That was before they were together, when their duties of command were more important than their feelings for each other. It feels like such a lifetime ago to her; she can't imagine ever not feeling this way about John and having him in her life like this.

"Can't you just ask both of them?" she suggests, taking her last bite of pie and savouring the taste.

"Two best men?" says John. "Isn't that a little excessive?"

"And this isn't?" She gestures wildly to his messy pro and con list.

He shrugs noncommittally but concedes her point.

As amusing as she finds John's dilemma, it still reminds her scornfully that she has yet to choose a maid of honour. She has very few female friends - just a few old college friends that she's lost contact with since Atlantis and her closest friends now are Carson and Rodney. She supposes, if they were still in the Pegasus galaxy, that Teyla would have been her first choice. They weren't as close as Teyla and John had been, but there was a mutual understanding between them; they were both leaders, both used to those hard choices that were thrust upon them, both felt the losses of their people more than anyone else could possibly understand.

"Hey, I heard Cadman kicked your ass." Sam Carter plops into the seat next to Elizabeth, grinning cheekily in John's direction. He grumbles under his breath, still stinging from his defeat.

Carter slouches in her seat, most unbecoming for a United States Air Force colonel and Elizabeth thinks it is no wonder that John and Carson drag her out of the SGC whenever they can. She rather suspects that Carter would live in the base if General Landry would let her.

She's not sure when it happened, but John and Sam have become fast friends. She suspects it's more than just their experience with working for the SGC that they have in common. Not that she's complaining - she's become rather fond of Sam herself since their engagement.

"I need you to check over some equations for me," Sam says to John, handing him over a Manila file. He takes it wordlessly.

She and Sam catch up on pleasantries whilst John scribbles away before handing the file back to carter.

"Wow," says Sam, "that was fast."

"What can I say," says John immodestly, "I'm a math genius."

It’s not something John ever talks about, but she's not surprised the SGC have utilised his math skills. His intelligence is always something he has downplayed, letting Rodney, or in this case Sam, take the smartest person in the room title. She doesn't know what caused him to up his aloofness, but she's always preferred the goofy side of him anyway. Not that she's about to admit that to his face anytime soon.

*

Three days before the wedding, John invites Sam to dinner. General O'Neill joins her from Atlantis under the guise of relaying new negotiations from the Ancients to the IOA.

She tries not to think of the city when she sees him, but can't help but picture him in her office, making decisions that decide the fate of an entire galaxy.

He looks abashed when he sees her, and she's surprised by the brief peck of a kiss he offers her cheek, his eyes full of nothing but understanding and she knows if he could have it his own way, it'd be her on Atlantis and not him.

She's surprised to find that the longing she feels is reduced to a dull thud in her heart and not the ferocious chasm that had been left when Atlantis was first taken away from her. John watches her closely, as if he's worried she's about to burst into to tears right in front of their guests. But when his hand grips hers, the mere presence of him strengthens her more than any platitudes Jack could ever give.

Dinner is a pleasant affair and she's surprised by just how easy it is to talk to Jack and Sam. Jack's pleasantly drunk and she supposes there is not much opportunity for him to drink on Atlantis with the Ancients and Woosley breathing down his neck. As the night wears on, his inhibitions become more diminished and he becomes more and more playful, his hands reaching out to touch Sam at every opportunity.

John shoots her a look over the dinner table, but she glares at him, silently telling him not to say anything.

She excuses herself from the table to get another bottle of wine and isn’t surprised when John follows her into the kitchen. He comes up behind her, arms wrapping around her waist and chin in between the crook of her neck.

"Ten bucks says they're doing it," he mutters as he nibbles gently on her neck.

She elbows him away playfully. "None of our business if they are," she says but wonders if John knows more than he lets on.

It doesn't take long for their impending wedding to come up and Sam lets out her surprise when Elizabeth admits she has yet to decide on a maid of honour, let alone a bachelorette party.

John is having his tomorrow night, organised by Major Lorne, of all people. She dreads to think what that will entail and has made a silent pack with herself not to ask. Ever.

Jack seems more affronted by this news than Sam, and offers the colonel's services. Sam shoots him a glare across the table but Elizabeth doesn't mind the idea. Actually, the thought of Sam, the person who aided in the their engagement, who probably understands their history and relationship more than anyone and, if they go by John's assumptions, knows just what it's like to have feelings for someone when the burdens of leadership and command become an issue.

Sam is startled when Elizabeth asks, but grins happily enough behind her wine glass anyway and graciously accepts.

Jack invites himself to John's bachelor party, claiming he 'knows a place.' Sam raises her eyebrows and declares under her breath that John is going to regret this come tomorrow.

*

Sam takes her new maid of honour duties in stride and, without, Elisabeth’s knowing, organises a bachelorette party in only a few short hours. Because it’s so short notice, the only people available and in the same state are Laura Cadman and - although Elizabeth rather suspects she's been strung along to make up the numbers – Vala Mal Doran.

John's hesitant when he finds out Cadman will be in attendance. "You know that girl could drink rocket fuel and still remain standing?" he complains as Elizabeth shoves him playfully out of her way as she tries to get ready.  Apparently Cadman's reputation for breaking into Atlantis' moonshine has survived the trip back to another galaxy and John makes his opinions clear on the matter. Elizabeth rather suspects he's still reeling from his ass kicking so ignores his apprehensions. Besides, she's more worried about what Major Lorne and General O'Neill have in store for him.

*

They're in the bar for less than two minutes before Cadman buys a round of shots. Both Elizabeth and Sam are hesitant, neither being as young as they used to be. Eventually, Vala convinces her that she's only going to experience this once so she may as well enjoy herself. Elizabeth chokes back the hard liquor with only mild reluctance.

The rest of the evening is a bit of a blur. Cadman orders more shots, but she suspects the Lieutenant and Vala drink most of them. And although she is enjoying herself, she can't help wondering what John is up to and wishing he was here. She's become embarrassingly clingy over the past few months, but feels validated when her cell rings a few hours later, John's name on the caller ID.

She slips outside before the others notice: too preoccupied with watching Vala attempt to coerce a free drink out of a couple of young guys in suits.

"Rodney's drunk," John greets her and she can hear the slur in his voice. "He's ten times more annoying when he's drunk," he complains.

"Oh, you poor baby," she mocks, noting the slur in her own voice and tries to tame her tongue.

"I miss you," he says.

"You only saw me three hours ago," she says reasonably.

"That’s three hours too long," he says, his voice suddenly sober. "I don't want to spend another minute without you by my side."

She grins despite herself and doesn't even try to pretend she feels any other way. "I love you, John Sheppard."

She returns to the bar only to receive mild scoldings from the others who are under no delusions about who was on the other end of her phone.

Vala passes her another drink and says, "I can't imagine spending the rest of my life with only one person."

"You just need to find the right person," Cadman blurts. The others stare at her questioningly and she blushes furiously when she realises all eyes are on her.

"You holding out on us Cadman?" Carter asks teasingly which just causes the young lieutenant to turn a deeper shade of red. Elizabeth smiles knowingly round her drink but doesn't say anything.

She crashes at Sam's place and returns to her own apartment the next morning to find Rodney McKay passed out in her bathtub and, for some inexplicable reason, a live chicken squawking in her living room.

The details surrounding John's bachelor party remain a mystery that she's more than happy to leave unsolved.

*

Having decided to heed Elizabeth’s advice, John asks both Rodney and Carson to be his best men and seems to regret the decision almost immediately, and she can understand why when she arrives at the registry office with her mother to find the two men in a heated argument, over curtains, of all things.

"It's no' the bloody dark ages, Rodney," Carson states, "they're allowed to let some bloody light in."

"The sun gets in my eyes!" Rodney complains loudly.

"Nobody gives a toss about your bloody eyes you narcissistic-"

Elizabeth clears her throat. Loudly.

Both men snap out of their argument immediately.

"Elizabeth, love," says Carson smiling warmly, "you look lovely."

Rodney gapes at her in her wedding dress for a few moments before Carson rolls his eyes and elbows him in the ribs.

"Mrs Weir, you look lovely too," Carson says graciously.

"Y-yes," Rodney stammers. "Lovely... both..."

She’s not sure, but she thinks he might be drooling slightly. It makes her self-conscious, but the evil part of her can't wait for John to see her in this dress. She knows he's going to struggle to get through his vows as it is.

The dress has its desired effect, but is diminished somewhat when Rodney disappears only to return a few minutes later with his former research assistant, Gabby, on his arm.

John swears under his breath in disbelief and Carson glares at them both.

The ceremony itself is a blur. They both wrote their own vows, just as sappy as each other, but she can't remember saying them or John saying his when she thinks about it later. But the sentiment is still there, and the promises they both make never needed to be said out loud anyway.

"I can't believe you brought that woman to my wedding," John hisses to Rodney when they are standing outside getting their photograph taken.

"Who’s this Gabby woman?" Jack asks in her ear.

"Don't ask," Elizabeth mutters back.

“I can’t believe you, Rodney,” says Carson. “We both agreed not to bring dates.” He shakes his head in annoyance and smiles sourly at Elizabeth’s mother. Elizabeth has to bite her lip to keep from laughing when her mother grabs Carson by the arm, pulling him flush against her, causing Carson to turn a shade similar to that of beetroot.

"Is it just me, or does she look a little like Carter?" Jack continues.

"Seriously," says Elizabeth as Carson and Rodney start arguing furiously with each other, "don't ask."

Gabby's had a haircut since Elizabeth last saw her and her resemblance to the colonel is startlingly uncanny. She's not sure if Rodney is aware of the similarity and that's why he's still obsessed with the woman even after she destroyed his work, or if he is completely oblivious as usual and is attracted to her on a subconscious level. Elizabeth spies Carter eying up the other blonde warily and take a step closer to Jack. Elizabeth wonders when Rodney will get it through is thick skull that Sam Carter isn't interested and never will be.

Photographs taken, they have dinner at a nearby hotel where they've booked rooms for the night and spend most of the evening in the bar celebrating. Rodney and Gabby find a quiet corner and spend the majority of the night with their lips locked together tighter than a vice. Carson shoots them both glares all evening as he sits playing seventh wheel and pandering to Elizabeth's mother and only loosens up a bit when Lorne, Cadman and a few other people John knows from the SGC arrive.

Elizabeth barely leaves John’s side all evening and she’s gone from sitting on her own chair to sitting on his lap with her high heels lying in a heap on the floor. It just shows how far they’ve all come when the old Atlantis crew doesn’t bat an eyelid at the display from their former leader and military commander.

They’ve taken over the bar somewhat and someone, Lorne she thinks, has convinced the barman to turn the music up and before long they’ve got a makeshift dance floor going on. Jack coerces her into a dance and he leads her around the dance floor in a haphazard mixture of different waltz’ that he’s picked up over the years that are in stark contradiction with the cheery pop music blaring out of the speakers.

“So, Mrs Sheppard,” he says and Elizabeth grins despite herself, “how’s it feel to be married?”

She’s not sure how to answer that, can’t put what she’s feeling into words. The day has been such a rush of emotions that she’s surprised she hasn’t passed out with exhaustion. She glances about the room as Jack takes her round for another spin and her eyes find John – her _husband_ , and god she is never going to get tired of thinking that – almost immediately. He’s chatting animatedly with Lorne but his eyes keep darting in her direction.

She turns her attention back to Jack and he’s smirking at her shrewdly as the song ends and a slower ballad starts up.

“Mind if I cut in?”

“Be my guest, Colonel,” says Jack and hands Elizabeth over to her husband graciously.

“You look tired,” he comments. “Beautiful, but tired.”

She groans in agreement, resting her head on John’s shoulder. His dancing style is more constrained than Jack’s and he sways them about slowly in time with the music. She forgets herself for a while, her world narrowed down to her and John and she still can’t quite believe that she just got married today, to John Sheppard, the love of her life.

She doesn’t want the night to end; wants to stay like this forever, in John’s arms, surrounded by their friends.

“What are you thinking?” John asks.

“I’m thinking,” Elizabeth replies, “that our wedding night is _long_ over-due.” She grins flirtatiously up at him.

“Think we can make a clean getaway?”

“Probably not,” she sighs as she watches Evan Lorne buy another round of drinks.

“Give it half an hour and they’ll probably kick us all out anyway,” John comments as Cadman challenges anyone within hearing distance to an arm wrestling match.

They aren’t the only couple on the dance floor, she notes, as she watches Rodney twirl Gabby around in an eloquent move she hadn’t expected him to be able to pull off. The physicist looks happy, and even though she has reservations about his relationship with his former research assistance, she’s glad he’s found someone that can make him smile like an idiot. It may be due to her recent nuptials, but she finds herself wanting to share her happiness, wanting to see the people she loves just as happy as she is feeling right now.

Even Carson’s cheered up a bit, now that her mother’s gone to bed and he’s no longer playing babysitter, he’s finally allowed himself to enjoy the occasion.

The song comes to an end and John leads them over to the bar where they find Laura Cadman in a heated argument with Kate Heightmeyer. Cadman eyes them both cautiously before slipping away leaving Kate to smile at them both wearily. The smile seems forced and Heightmeyer congratulates them both before leaving herself, muttering a goodbye. Elizabeth stares after her in wonder but decides it isn’t any of her business.

John orders two glasses of champagne. “Put it on Rodney McKay’s tab,” he tells the barman. “What?” he says when Elizabeth gives him a look. “He owes us for bringing that woman to our wedding.”

Elizabeth rolls her eyes but sips the champagne anyway, the bubbles going straight to her head.

Slowly, the party starts to come to an end. Rodney and Gabby having disappeared hours ago and Elizabeth watches, amused, as Jack and Sam leave within five minutes of each other in an attempt to be discrete. Eventually, it’s just her and John left along with Evan Lorne (who doesn’t seem anywhere near close to calling it a night), Carson and a few other stragglers from the SGC. John nudges her playfully and leads her out of the bar when no one is looking and they make their way up to their hotel room without bumping into anyone they know.

The room is luscious, the bed a king size and a bottle of champagne waits for them on ice. John takes off his jacket and shoes and lies flat on the bed, his eyes closed.

“That was exhausting,” he mutters.

“Hm,” Elizabeth says noncommittally as she takes off her jewellery and slips out of her dress. Careful to remain as quiet as possible until she is in nothing but her underwear, she straddles John’s waist and leans down to trail light kisses along his chin.

“You better not be sleeping, mister,” she’s says softly, “I’m not done with you yet.”

He slips one eye open and peers at her drowsily. “You’re not wearing any clothes,” he observes.

“And you’re wearing far too many,” she says and begins to nibble his ear. “Take them off,” she orders.

“Ooh, bossy,” says John, leaning into her touch.

“You love it when I boss you around,” she says, unbuttoning his shirt. “Besides,” she adds, leaning down to lick his bare chest, “you have no idea how bossy I can be.”

“That’s kinky,” John says gripping her waist. “How come I’m only hearing about you’re kinkiness now that we’re married?”

She grins wolfishly but he doesn’t let her speak as he leans up to capture her lips, darting his tongue in and out of her mouth as his hands unclip her bra. She grabs his wrists before he can complete the manoeuvre and brings them above his head.

“Uh-uh, no touching,” she says.

John pouts and it’s ridiculously adorable, but he keeps his hands above his head as she unbuckles his belt and makes short work of removing his pants. He’s getting hard already and she slips her hands beneath his boxers, feeling the length of him. John’s hips buck involuntary and he glares when she removes her hand, moving up to settle above him so that they are eye to eye.

“You in some sort of rush?” she says, kissing his neck.

“No,” he replies with a groan. “But you don’t have to be so evil about it.”

She chuckles softly and kisses him on the lips again. John deepens the kiss and she can tell it’s taking all his self-control not to reach out and touch her. She breaks the kiss, moving downwards to remove his boxers, her fingernails scraping along his thighs just hard enough to hurt.

John lets out a groan. “’Lizabeth…”

She grins wickedly and bends her head to take him in her mouth, her tongue grazing over his tip.

“Oh _god_ ,” John moans and she’s sucking him hard, her fingers stroking his shaft as he rocks into her.

She loves doing this, making John Sheppard come undone. It’s at times like this, when John lets out an inhumane guttural moan (which he would never admit to in the light of day as coming out of his own mouth), that she truly relishes the control she has over him.

She stops just when he’s on the edge and he lets out a whimper that is entirely unbecoming of a man of his rank.

“I told you we’re going to take this slow,” she says as she moves to kiss her way up his chest, her tongue darting out to lick his left nipple.

“I hate you,” he mutters.

“No you don’t,” she says her breath grazing his lips.

“No I don’t,” he agrees.

She sits up, straddling his waist, and reaches round to take her bra off, letting her breasts fall out. John twitches, wanting to touch her, but still following her order of no touching. She grins in satisfaction at that and begins to play with her right nipple, making it taut and hard.

“No, I change my mind,” John croaks, “I do hate you.”

Feeling sorry for him, she grabs his hand, bringing it up to her left breast where he kneads it softly before she guides his trailing fingers downwards and underneath her panties. His finger brushes her clit and she lets out moan, realising too late that she’s just lost the upper hand as John flips her over onto her back so quickly she doesn’t even realise he has her pinned down until his teeth are grazing her neck and his hands – oh god his hands – are everywhere.

“Now, Mrs Sheppard,” he says cockily, “it’s my turn.”

“This probably isn’t the best time to bring it up,” she gasps as John sucks on her right nipple, “but I’m thinking of keeping my own name.”

He grunts, trailing his tongue up to her collarbone. “Stop trying to distract me.”

She laughs softly, entwining her fingers in his hair and pulling slightly until he gets the hint and moves up to grab her lips in a heated kiss. He’s still wearing his unbuttoned shirt and her hands move to slip it down his shoulders and he has to break the kiss to help her remove it completely.

He’s at a disadvantage now that he’s completely naked and she’s still wearing her panties. Not one to bluff with a losing hand, John moves downwards, slipping her underwear off more gently than she removed his.

He stares at her sex, smirking slightly at the slickness between her thighs. “Look at you getting all worked up and _I’ve_ barely even started yet.”

“Shut up,” she says playfully and tries to control the way her hips buck when his fingers graze the inside of her thigh. “Dammit John,” she groans when he stays like that, not touching but yet so close.

“Hey, we’re taking this slow, remember?” he says and she resists the urge to throw a pillow at his head in frustration.

It feels like a lifetime before he does anything. Then his tongue is on her clit, making those circular movements that she likes and she’s gripping the headboard and biting her lip to stop herself from screaming his name.

When he slips in a finger she lets out a startled moan and she’s moving her hips in time with him, seeking more friction until he gives in and inserts two more fingers. She comes when he sucks her clit with his lips, lapping up her juices with his tongue as she rides the waves of her orgasm.

“Oh _fuck,_ ” she says, seeing stars and breathing heavily.

“Language,” John scolds playfully and she can tell he is grinning smugly.

She can feel his erection hot on her belly as he moves to kiss her gently on the lips before resting his forehead on hers.

“You okay?” he asks.

She nods, reaching up to kiss him deeper, tasting herself on his tongue and relishing in the feel of him, of _them_ , together like this.

“I love you,” she murmurs into his mouth.

“Well, I should hope so,” he says, “we just got married.”

She resists the urge to roll her eyes, witty comeback hot on her lips but gets distracted when John’s tongue starts doing that thing to her neck where she completely loses all ability to function on a synaptic level.

Things just start to get interesting again when John’s cell phone starts ringing from the other end of the room, the theme of ‘O Canada’ blaring at them mockingly in monotone.

John stills. It’s the ringtone he’s set for Rodney and she can see the annoyance in his eyes.

“It’s our _wedding_ night,” he complains.

“Ignore it,” she says, trying to distract him by nibbling his ear lobe just the way he likes. But the phone doesn’t let up and the annoyance John feels overrides his desire as he slumps off the bed in a huff and snatches up the phone.

“This had better be good, McKay,” John grumbles into the phone. “It’s my _wedding_ night.”

Elizabeth lays back on the bed, hand covering her eyes and groaning in frustration.

“You're _where_?” John asks. “No, I’m not… call Carson!” he snaps.

Elizabeth doesn’t hear Rodney’s side of the conversation, but John’s already starting to pull some of his clothes back on, phone wedged between his ear and shoulder and she knows the evening’s activities are over.

“Fine,” he fumes, “just don’t move.” He shuts off the phone and shoves on the rest of his clothes, silently seething.

“What’s going on?” Elizabeth asks, sitting up and half wrapping the bed sheet round herself to fight against the sudden chill.

“Rodney’s had a fight with Gabby,” he explains. “She kicked him out of their room and now he’s locked outside.”

Elizabeth quirks an eyebrow, wondering why the hell Rodney doesn’t just book another room.

“Naked,” John adds and she has to fight hard not to picture that image in her mind.

“I hope you’re not planning on bringing him back here,” she says and he leans in to give her a quick kiss. “I’m still not done with you yet.”

“Yes boss,” he complies.

John’s gone for about an hour and by the time he returns to their room, she’s half asleep. He strips off his clothing and slips into the bed next to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and yawning in exhaustion.

“McKay’s an idiot,” he mutters sleepily.

“I hope you took pictures for future revenge,” she says into her pillow.

“Wow,” he comments, “you really are evil.”

*

Needless to say, John ensures that Rodney McKay is nowhere near their honeymoon by not telling him where they are going for one thing, and then leaving both their cell phones at home for another.

The honeymoon phase of their marriage is a luxury that they both indulge in and it doesn’t take long for Atlantis to become a distant memory; its presence fading in her mind. She no longer feels a longing for the home she has lost; it evaporates to nothing but a fond memory of times past and she finally lets go of the hope that she once harboured that she would someday yet be allowed to return.

She doesn’t need her home in the stars, a galaxy away from all that she knows. John is her home now, her _life,_ and she is happy no matter where they are.

*

They’ve been married for a couple of months and she’s in Moscow doing work for the UN when realises that her period is three weeks late. She buys an over-the-counter pregnancy test and sits in her hotel bathroom staring at it, willing its results to hurry up and appear and cursing their carelessness.

The nausea should have been her first clue, but she had chalked it up to the unappealing Russian cuisine and had only noticed she was late when she had flipped back through her diary to check up on something else.

She calls John at the SGC, wanting to hear is voice and although she is terrified, she doesn’t tell him why she is calling. She makes small talk idly, the majority of her attention focused on the white stick in her hand. She wonders absently if John realises she’s barely listening to him and tries to think when the hell this happened.

They haven’t discussed having children, but she knows it’s something John wants going by the way he keeps subtly dropping hints about buying a bigger place. She can picture him as a father; knows he’d make a good one. What she can’t picture is herself as a mother. Kids aren’t something she has ever considered, her career as a diplomat traveling all over the world kind of ruled the option of a family out for her. It had been easy with Simon, he had never wanted kids and there had been a mutual understanding between them over the matter.

John’s a different story. She finds herself liking the idea of mini-versions of John Sheppard walking around. But both their careers are ridiculous and neither one of them is home long enough to raise a child.

She glances at her watch; the two minute pregnancy test should have come to a conclusion by now. She turns it over, fingers trembling.

_Oh god._

John’s voice in her ear grounds her.

“Listen,” she says, her voice trembling slightly when she interrupts him. “I’ve got some news to tell you when I get home.”

“News?” says John sounding a bit worried. “Good or bad?”

“Good,” she chokes and is surprised to find tears streaming down her cheeks and the smile playing across her lips. “Definitely good.”

She wants to do this in person, see his face when she tells him. This is too important to tell him from half-way across the planet.

“Okay,” he says but doesn’t sound convinced.

She tells him she loves him and hangs up the phone, trying to pull herself together before her afternoon meeting. She looks a wreck when catches her reflection in the bathroom mirror and has to reapply her make-up before she deems herself presentable enough to leave the room.

She’s startled to find two United States Air Force men at her door when she opens it and for one heart stopping moment she thinks _John_ before she mentally slaps herself and remembers she was on the phone to him only ten minutes ago. He was fine. He had to be.

“Doctor Elizabeth Weir?” one of the men asks her.

She nods.

“We’re going to need you to come with us, ma’am.”

“What’s this about?” she asks, suddenly on the defensive.

“I’m afraid we can’t discuss that with you here,” he says.

“I’m going to need a little bit more than that if I’m to come with you,” Elizabeth says, thinking of her afternoon peace talks and unwilling to ditch them without knowing the importance of this request.

“Ma’am,” says the Air Force colonel reasonably, “we have orders from the President.”

That stills her. If this order comes straight from the President, if it’s important enough to disturb her UN peace talks, then it can only mean one thing…

Atlantis.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth and John prepare to retake Atlantis.

They want to nuke her city.

That's what Elizabeth's been reduced to, that lonely single thought. Atlantis is on the brink of destruction and she can't help but be right on the edge with it.

The _Daedalus_ is already on its way, like the decision has already been made. That it is final. It’s as if all they achieved, all they _went_ through doesn’t matter. Atlantis stands as a last beacon of hope amongst a galaxy so close to death and they want to blow it up into tiny little pieces.

"What about General O’Neill and Woolsey?" asks John but she is barely listening. He's speaking to Landry but his eyes never leave hers.

"These are General O'Neill's standing orders," Landry says reasonably.

"Well they're stupid," says Rodney, blunt as ever. Landry glares at him.

"Atlantis is the gateway to Earth," Landry explains sternly, but his eyes have turned apologetic. "We can't risk the Replicators figuring out the dialling sequence. I'm sorry," he adds and there is a finality to his tone that says he isn't going to consider any other option.

He leaves them wallowing in their own self-pity, not able to understand their grief. Atlantis is just a military base to him, and one they lost control of a long time ago. He doesn't see Atlantis as a city, as a home.

"I can't believe this," says Rodney, staring after Landry in disbelief.

"Why not?" asks Carson. "You're the one that changed their bloody base code in the first place."

"Oh, so it's my fault, is it?" Rodney says snidely.

"Well, if you’re pointing fingers..."

"Enough!" John barks before Rodney can open his mouth to retort. “This isn’t helping.”

Rodney pulls a face but doesn’t say anything and they all retreat to John’s office in stony silence. John’s hand is warm on the small of her back as he guides her through the halls of Stargate Command and she can see him eyeing her worriedly out of the corner of her eye. She hasn’t said anything since watching O’Neill’s data burst, hasn’t dared for fear of what might come out of her mouth. She can’t tell what he is thinking and she wishes selfishly for Carson and Rodney to leave so that she can have a moment alone with him.

As soon as they are in the safety of John’s office, Rodney launches into a tirade. “Do you have _any_ idea of the wealth of scientific knowledge and technology they are just going to blow up? Of all the barbaric, _idiotic,_ things to do…”

“What do you want us to do, Rodney?” says John. “Run to the Pegasus galaxy, guns blazing, in a futile attempt at a take-over?”

“Yes,” says Rodney as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. “That’s exactly what we should do. And I can’t believe you of all people are willing to stand there and do nothing.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” John asks, voice rising.

“You’ve become complacent,” Rodney accuses with derision, “nothing but a poster boy for the SGC.”

“Rodney…” Carson warns.

“Atlantis is our home,” says Rodney but all the fight has left him.

“Yeah, well,” says John, running a hand through his hair. “Things change.”

That is an understatement if there ever was one. It is true though, things have changed. And not just the status of her and John’s relationship. They have all moved on with their lives and have allowed Atlantis to become a distant memory. She had allowed herself to forget, forget what it was like to be a leader, to be the figure-head of a city that was so much bigger than them all.

But this time Atlantis is not a dream. It is not a figment thought up by her imagination to fight the onslaught of emotional trauma. The Replicators had tried to steal Atlantis from her once before, tried to make her forget what it means and what it represents, how the city of the Ancients is more than any military base, more than any Earth expedition. It is a home and a sanctuary, the light in the dark that chases all the demons away. She cannot, _will not_ , allow them to destroy that again.

“Rodney’s right.”

John’s head snaps up so fast she’s sure he must have pulled something. They don’t talk about Atlantis, they never have, not since that first time they kissed, when the memory of Atlantis was still so raw in her heart that it hurt just to breathe.

She doesn’t want to hurt him, doesn’t want to make him feel like the life they have built together means less to her than what she lost over a year ago. She can tell he is apprehensive, that he thinks the four of them attempting to retake Atlantis is insane. She remembers a time when he used to be so reckless, when the suicide missions that were probably never going to work were his idea; and he’d go in charging, careless of his own life if it meant doing the right thing, because he didn’t have anything, or anyone, to live for.

John stares at her long and hard. She meets his eyes with resolve made of steel and wonders at which point she had made up her mind, had decided that she couldn’t let Atlantis go. _Not yet. Not like this._

Rodney stares between them both awkwardly with anticipation. She can practically _feel_ his brain coming up with ideas.

Eventually, John nods. “We’re gonna need some kind of plan.”

*

Rodney snaps his fingers. “I could create a freezing programme that renders the Replicators helpless.”

“That sounds good,” says John.

“Create a freezing programme how?” says Carson dubiously.

“Well,” Rodney begins apprehensively, “I’d need to upload it to one of them. Which means we’d need to get close.”

“How close?” Elizabeth asks.

He gestures between Elizabeth and John, sitting side by side on the edge of his desk.

“Okay,” says John slowly, “now it’s not sounding so good.”

“You really sure you ought to be tampering with their base code again?” says Carson.

Rodney ignores him.

“What about Niam,” suggests Elizabeth and shudders at the memory of fingers around her throat, choking the life out of her.

Rodney stills, smiling widely. “That’s brilliant.”

“No need for him to sound so surprised,” John mutters in her ear.

“No it’s bloody no’,” Carson says to Rodney. “He’s been floating in space for well over a year, the solar radiation alone –”

“Well, if you’re so smart, _you_ come up with a plan,” Rodney snaps.

They continue like that for a while, arguing in circles until they come up with something that might just work. Rodney looks pleased with himself when he’s finished laying out the details of their plan. He goes over every aspect one more time, divvies up some jobs for them to do at the SGC before they go, but smacks his mouth shut in horror when the door to John’s office creaks open with a  look like he’s just been caught with his hands in the cookie jar.

Elizabeth lets out a sigh of relief when she sees Cadman and Lorne. They slip into the room, checking the corridor behind them before closing the door again.

“Whatever you’re planning,” says Lorne.

“We want in,” Cadman finishes.

“What? How did you…” John trails off as Lorne stares at him pointedly.

John glances at Elizabeth briefly before turning back to Lorne. “Look, guys, we appreciate the offer, but-”

“But what?” says Lorne. “You’re going to take back the city with nothing but your wife, _McKay_ and a doctor who gets squeamish around guns?”

“Why did he say my name like that?” says Rodney.

“I don’t get squeamish,” Carson defends himself. “I just think they’re loud, okay?” Elizabeth pats him sympathetically on the arm.

“As much as I would love sixty marines and an arsenal of Carter’s anti-Replicator gun thingies, it ain’t gonna happen,” John states.

“Sir,” Cadman starts to protest.

“No, Lieutenant,” John snaps, “you’re not coming. There’s no point in risking your jobs as well. Besides,” he adds a little less harshly, “who’s going to rescue _us_ if this all goes to hell?”

“Actually,” Rodney buts in, “we might need Cadman’s help.”

Cadman smirks smugly in surprise.

John glares at him. “Why?” he grits out.

“Well, we’re going to need a bomb,” he states as if John is acting stupid. “And she’s an explosives expert.”

Elizabeth is still dubious about the bomb part of the plan. Blowing up Atlantis’ gate room is not one of Rodney’s better ideas, but she supposes they need _some_ way of distracting the Replicators when they reach Atlantis.

And here she was thinking that they were supposed to be _preventing_ the city from getting blown up.

*

John and Cadman go off to set the bomb up whilst Carson and Lorne stock up on provisions from the armoury. That leaves her and Rodney to gain access to the puddle-jumper.

“The jumper is in storage under guard,” Rodney explains. “We need one of us to be added to the authorised personnel list and there’s only one guy who can do that.”

“You?” Elizabeth asks lightly.

“No.” Rodney stops short. “Why’d you think I was gonna say me?

Elizabeth shrugs. “I don’t know,” she says. “Seemed like you were leading up to it.”

Rodney starts to explain that Doctor Lee has been heading up the jumper research programme, so they have to authorise one of their key cards from his office.

“So?” Elizabeth asks, wondering why she has to be dragged along for this.

“Well, he’s _in_ his office,” says Rodney, “so you need to distract him.”

“Me!” Elizabeth’s eyes widen. “How?”

“Well, here’s what I’m thinking…” says Rodney and begins to describe something called World of Warcraft. Elizabeth doesn’t have a clue want he’s talking about, but it’s apparently something that Doctor Lee is very fond of and she has no choice but to wing it when Rodney unceremoniously pushes her in front of the eager scientist.

“I gotta say,” says Doctor Lee, smiling in delight. “I have never met a woman this into World of Warcraft!” Elizabeth smiles but it comes out more as a grimace.

Lee starts to brag about his gaming stats, Elizabeth adding her own comments here and there as she tries silently to get Rodney to hurry the hell up.

“What’s your race?” Lee asks her suddenly.

“Uh…” she says and starts to twist the wedding ring on her finger nervously.

Rodney gestures wildly behind them, telling her he needs more time.

“Mage?” Elizabeth blurts and knows that if John were here right now, he’d be laughing his ass off at her.

In what feels like forever, Rodney is finally done and they make a quick escape before Lee can notice what they were up to.

“Never,” Elizabeth begins when they are a clear distance away from the office, “make me do that again.”

“Well,” says Rodney, “I’d have suggested you use your feminine wiles, but I have a feeling your husband would probably have something to say to that.”

*

Her fingers tremble slightly as she pulls the tac vest on. The weight of it feels heavy on her shoulders and it is slightly too big for her, making her feel small and trapped. She struggles with the zipper until John’s hands cover her own, pulling it up for her.

Dressed for combat, she doesn’t feel any more ready for this than she did when they were devising their plans.

“Hm,” says John looking at her longingly.

“What?” she asks, feeling self-conscious under his stare, aware of how out of place she looks dressed up in SGC battle uniform.

“You look kinda hot in that,” he states nonchalantly.

“Oh really?” she says, quirking her eyebrow suggestively as John pulls her closer by the waist.

“Yeah,” he says, “think we could get one for the bedroom?”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” she says but her mind instantly runs through the possibilities of her wearing nothing but the protective vest and John looking at her like _that._

John tugs her in closer for a kiss and her hands reach up automatically to play with the hair on the nape of his neck.

“Do you mind,” says Rodney behind them, sounding mildly disgusted. “I’m right here.”

“Then go away then,” says John

Rodney rolls his eyes.

John pulls back slightly, suddenly looking serious. “I don’t suppose if I…”

“John,” she stops him, because she knows where he’s going with this. Now that they’re here, slipping on their battle armour, it all suddenly seems too real. Their plan is risky, despite Rodney’s confidence that it will work, but that doesn’t stop John from having doubts. She knows that he’d leave her behind if he could, if she would let him. Part of her wants to, and she thinks of their unborn child in her belly. She hasn’t told John yet, too caught up in all that has happened since she landed back on American soil and hasn’t found the right time to break the news to him. Now isn’t the right time either, not with Rodney breathing down their necks, so she keeps her silence and strengthens her resolve to see this thing through.

“No, I didn’t think so,” John says smiling tightly, resigned to their fate.

“I think the corridor is clear,” says Carson, slipping back into the room, pulling on his own tac vest as Rodney checks the magazine of his 9mm before placing it into the holster on his leg with a determined look.

John hands her a P-90 and the gun feels cold and heavy in her hands. “Remember: we get into trouble,” he says, “safety off. And try not to point it at one of us. I know it’s tempting to shoot McKay, but we kinda need him for this plan to work.”

“Oh, ha-ha,” Rodney snaps.

She nods, clipping the gun to her vest and looks up to find John staring at her. “The gun turning you on too?” she asks impishly.

“Little bit.”

*

John takes the lead, guiding them through the halls of the SGC to where the jumper is being stored, Goa’uld zat gun in hand. There is very little activity this time of night and they don’t run into anyone as they sneak through the base’s corridors. They reach the store room and Rodney uses his now valid key card to gain access through the door.

It doesn’t work.

Rodney looks at them nervously as the light on the lock flashes an angry red. Elizabeth glances down the corridor, conscious of how conspicuous they look and knowing that if Landry or _anyone_ found them now, then this entire plan would be foiled right there and then.

“McKay,” John grits out.

Rodney shrugs. “It worked earlier,” he complains and tries the card again. This time the light flashes green and the lock clicks open. Rodney lets out a sigh of relief and moves to push the door open.

“What are you doing?”

All four of them freeze.

Elizabeth turns around, aware of John by her side raising his hands up in surrender, zat gun held loosely in his hand. It’s Colonel Carter, staring at them silent and stony faced. She can’t tell what the other woman is thinking, but they’ve just been caught red handed. If Carter wants to stop them she can and she will, and this whole thing will be over before it’s even started.

Elizabeth steps forward. “Colonel, I know how this looks…”

“How are you planning on getting past the iris?” Sam asks. It’s not what Elizabeth is expecting and she blinks at the other woman in shock.

“Uh,” says Rodney, clearly having as much difficulty with Carter’s aloofness as Elizabeth is. “I hacked it.”

“Oh,” says Carter. “You know that’s not going to work for very long right?”

“Yeah,” says Rodney slowly, “we know.”

“Carter,” John begins and Sam’s eyes fix on his. “We’ll get him back.”

Sam looks as if she’s about to protest but then she just nods resolutely. Elizabeth doesn’t need to ask who they are talking about. She and Sam have become close since the wedding and she knows that Jack O’Neill’s absence sits heavy in the other woman’s heart. Elizabeth finds it hard enough being apart from John when he’s off-world for the SGC, she can’t imagine what it would be like if he was an entire galaxy away.

“This’ll probably look better if I shoot you,” says John then fires the zat gun without warning. Blue lightning flashes around Carter’s body and she slumps to the floor unconscious.

“What the hell did you do that for?” Rodney yells.

“Because she’s the first person Landry’s going to question when he realises the iris has been hacked,” says John, dragging Carter by the feet into a nearby storage cupboard. “Not to mention the security cameras you’ve got going on a loop.”

Rodney opens his mouth to say something but Elizabeth silences him with a look. She’s not sure how well known Carter and O’Neill’s relationship is, but she doesn’t doubt John’s assumption that Landry will be suspicious. And even if he’s not, then Carter’s probably the only person on the base who could get past Rodney’s hack.

“Let’s go,” John says, nudging Rodney towards the puddle jumper.

“I can’t believe you shot _Carter,”_ says Rodney.

“It’s not like I shot her with the damn thing twice,” John argues.

Lorne and Cadman are waiting in the jumper having already been sent along earlier by Rodney so that Cadman could add the finishing touches to the bomb. One of the SGC techs is lying unconscious at the foot of the ramp, Lorne standing over him, with his own zat gun in hand.

“What is it with you two and shooting people?” Rodney mutters and pushes his way past into the puddle jumper.

Cadman explains how to attach the bomb to the jumper’s magnetic seal once they reach the Athosian settlement. “Timer’s pre-set to go off thirty seconds after you release it,” she adds.

“Sure you don’t want us to come?” Lorne asks.

John nods. “I’m sure. Besides,” he adds, “we’ll have Ronon and Teyla as back up.”

That’s if they’re still where they left them. They haven’t discussed what they will do if they’re not. They aren’t essential to the plan, but it would still be nice to have the back up. Elizabeth wonders again why John is so adamant for Cadman and Lorne to stay behind when they both look so eager to help. She gets that it will easier to infiltrate the city with only a small number of them, but she can’t help but think that she’d rather have Major Lorne watching her back and not Carson, who gets jumpy every time a gun goes off.

She glances at the doctor, feeling guilty. The four of them have become close over the past year, closer than they ever were in Atlantis. They are her family now: John, her husband, and Rodney and Carson, their two best friends. She can’t imagine taking the city _without_ any one of them. It’s their home too, and there’s a silent understanding between the four of them that no one else can possibly comprehend.

Cadman and Lorne wish them luck and John hops into the pilot’s seat, his fingers curling around the controls as if he’s never been away.

“Setting the gate to dial,” Rodney says from his computer. “Are you ready?”

“Let’s move,” says John.

“I hope this bloody hack of his works,” Carson mutters behind her. “Or this is going to be a really short trip.”

*

She goes over every detail of the plan in her head as they sit in the midway station waiting for Rodney to rewrite the bridge macros. She tries not to think about all the ways it could go wrong. She silently curses Landry and his refusal to give them a contingent of marines, curses O'Neill's standing orders, curses the Replicators and the Ancients for coming back and taking over her home.

She thinks back over the past year. She wouldn't change any of it, not one line. The life she has built with John means more to her than anything she could possibly put into words. She's got the Ancients to thank for that, she supposes. They would never have gotten together, would never have admitted their feelings for each other, if they had stayed in Atlantis. Her blood runs cold at the thought of how they used to be; that carefully controlled line they walked, wary never to cross it. She knows that if this works, if they manage to retake the city, they won't be able to run it like they used to. She doesn't even know if she wants that, and once again thinks of her unborn child. She wants to save the city from the Replicators, yes, wants to stop Landry from nuking it, but she doesn't think she's ready to take over the mantel of leadership once again.

That doesn't stop her from wanting to do this with all her heart. Atlantis was torn away from her so suddenly and with no warning that she needs to go back, she needs that closure to let it go fully.

She knows Rodney is doing this out of scientific curiosity, that he wants to preserve the ancient knowledge, utilise it. John came out of a sense of duty. And Carson... She's not sure of Carson's reasons. Sure, the medical advances from the ancient data base (those they hadn't got around to translating yet) would certainly give him motive enough. But the doctor values life too much to stand by and watch them risk theirs so easily on a foolhardy mission.

But as the four most senior members of staff of the expedition, she supposes they all feel a sense of responsibility to what they left behind in the Pegasus galaxy.

"My turtles!" Carson blurts suddenly from behind her and she jumps. "No one’s going to know to feed William and Wallace," says Carson despairingly.

"You named your turtles William and Wallace?" Rodney asks snidely.

"Aye, what of it, Rodney?" Carson says sternly.

Rodney shrugs diplomatically. "Nothing. Just didn't know you were that patriotic," he mutters and turns back to his computer.

John shakes his head good-naturedly and turns back to the controls, a frown developing on his face. "Rodney, did you just dial the Earth gate?" John asks.

"No," says Rodney scathingly. "Why?"

"Because it's activating," John replies.

General Landry's face appears on the jumper’s view screen. “Colonel Sheppard,” says Landry, his voice tinny from talking across hundreds of thousands of light years. “I’m going to assume you’re still at the midway station waiting for Doctor McKay to write his macro.”

Rodney grimaces apologetically; _that_ part of the plan is taking longer than anticipated.

“I understand what you’re doing, Colonel,” Landry continues. “Hell, I’ll even call it brave.” Landry’s features turn sharp and his voice begins to rise. “But if you don’t turn that ship around immediately and come back to the SGC, I’ll see to it personally that your career in the military is –”

John slams his hand down on the front console and the HUD shuts down, Landry’s face blinking out midsentence. Elizabeth stares at him questioningly.

“That way I won’t know what he was gonna say,” John says with a shrug. “How much longer, McKay?”

“Five more minutes,” Rodney answers, turning back to his computer. “I’m going as fast as I can.”

Suddenly, the puddle jumper feels too small and the deep vastness of space feels like it’s crushing in towards her. Elizabeth retreats to the back of the ship, breathing heavily, the nausea she’s feeling not just to do with being pregnant. She can sense John watching her and she sits on the bench, trying to control her racing heart. Her ears ringing and her vision narrowed, she doesn’t know John’s followed her until his hands are gripping hers, his thumb brushing against the inside of her palm.

“Hey,” he says quietly, “you okay?”

She squeezes his hands; using the feel of him to ground her, remind herself where she is. Even if they do manage to reach Atlantis, defeat the Replicators and take back the city, the SGC and the IOA aren’t just going to let them stay, allow things to go back to the way they were. They are breaking so many laws and John will likely face court martial for this when it’s all over. If they survive that is.

Elizabeth really doesn’t like the idea of having her baby in prison.

She doesn’t like the idea of being dead either.

She was being selfish, she realises, when she decided to attempt this mission. She’s risking all their lives, and even if John does avoid court martial, his career in the Air Force will almost certainly be over. The risk is too great, she should have refused, should have let Atlantis go once and for all. And they would have agreed; the others would have let it go too. Because they still see her as the leader, still look to her for permission, for guidance. They still take her orders, for what they are worth.

Risking just her own life she could have lived with. But John and the others? Her unborn child? Elizabeth’s only known she is pregnant for barely a day and the weight of that knowledge, the responsibility of it, terrifies her.

“John, I need to tell you something,” she says, because she can’t take this anymore. She needs John to know, needs him to take the decision out of her hands, make them go back.

He squeezes her hand, looking at her curiously and there is an innocence to his look. He trusts her with his life, would do anything for her, is doing _this_ for her because she asked, because she couldn’t let go.

“I –”

“Okay, I’ve got it!” Rodney interrupts from the front of the jumper. “Bridge macro is reprogrammed, we’re ready to go.”

*

It’s night on the Athosian settlement.

John lands the jumper near the gate and it should only be a sort ten minute walk to the settlement from here. The night air is chilly and Elizabeth shivers as she holds the P-90 to her chest to prevent it from swaying as she walks. Soon they can see light up ahead and the smoke from a dozen Athosian fires clouding up the sky.

Elizabeth trails behind watching the stars of the Pegasus galaxy high above her. They always looked different here and it only serves as a reminder of how far they have come. John slows his stride until she catches up with him.

“I’d forgotten,” she says distantly.

“What?” asks John glancing at her in confusion.

“The stars,” she says, “how different they look.”

He looks up. “Huh,” he says, his forehead creasing. “I never noticed.”

Elizabeth grabs his hand and squeezes. "Come on, we should catch up with the others," she says and tugs him along.

The settlement itself is a mishmash of tents and wooden huts built in the last year and still looking fresh and yet to be marred by weather or time. She recognises some of the faces as they venture further into the settlement; Jinto has grown at least a foot taller and he stares at them with his mouth hanging open, completely ignoring the game he's roasting on an open fire. Others quickly recognise them too and soon there is a crowd gathering, the small village suddenly animated and filled with noise.

"Well this is a nice homecoming," Rodney says, smiling awkwardly as one if the Athosian's leans their forehead against his in their customary greeting.

"Aye," agrees Carson, "but I doubt the Replicators are going to be as friendly.”

John gets more attention than any of them; the children eager for tales of his adventures, the adults greeting him with respect. John was well liked by the Athosians during their time on Atlantis and they welcome him into the settlement as if he were a long lost friend. John grips her hand so he doesn’t lose her in the crowd and she can tell he’s uncomfortable by the attention.

Jinto comes running through the crowd, dragging his father by the arm and stops breathless in front them. Halling shakes John’s hand enthusiastically, but only spares Elizabeth a quick, terse nod. She’s always regretted how she handled the Athosian on Atlantis. The accusations of him being a wraith collaborator and the removal of the Athosian settlement to the mainland had resulted in a strained relationship which, she suspects, had only been lessened somewhat by Teyla’s influence. The tension was still there, like the Athosian male did not like their presence in the settlement. Or maybe just _her_ presence.

"What is going on here?" says a familiar authoritative voice.

The crowd parts slightly and the sight of Teyla Emmagan is like a homecoming.

"John?" Teyla says shocked, but she grins widely all the same.

"Looks like we got here just in time for dinner," says John, inhaling the smell of roasting meat and that famous Athosian stew.

Rodney's mouth is practically watering and he stares past Teyla at the cooking food eagerly. She greets him warmly, startling him by pulling him into a hug.

"Doctor Beckett?" She smiles fondly at Carson. "Doctor Weir? What are you all doing here?"

"Well," says John, glancing at Elizabeth briefly before continuing. "We kinda need your help…"

Teyla leads the four of them into one of the larger wooden huts, requesting one of her people to bring them some of the Athosian stew. Inside the wooden structure it’s cramped but they all manage to squeeze around Teyla’s small kitchen table. The hut is made up of two rooms; the kitchen slash living area and another room off to the side. They settle at the table, Elizabeth sits next to John, Teyla at her other side at the head of the table, and the place is so small that John’s entire side is pressed up against hers.

Teyla waits patiently as an elderly Athosian woman dishes them up some stew, then bids her to leave when she is done. Rodney tucks into his food immediately, shovelling food into his mouth so rapidly that Elizabeth is sure he’s inhaling it more than eating it. Carson looks at him with disgust before starting on his own stew with delicate purpose.

The stew is one of those famous Athosian dishes that Elizabeth has tried on more than one occasion. She remembers the rich flavours of the meat and the spices, but right now, the stench of the stew makes her stomach roil. She pushes the bowl away, trying to clamp down on the wave of nausea that passes through her. So much for _morning_ sickness.

John glances at her curiously as he brings his spoon to his mouth and she smiles at him reassuringly. She can tell he doesn’t buy it, not with that concerned look glinting in his eye, but he won’t bring it up here, not in front of the others.  Elizabeth ignores his look and focuses her attention on the other woman in the room.

“So,” Teyla begins, “care to explain what you are all doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you…”

“The Replicators have taken over Atlantis,” John explains as he drags his eyes away from his wife.

“Replicators?” Teyla echoes shocked.

John explains the situation. How the Replicators managed to re-write their base code and destroy the Ancients. That the SGC want to destroy the city to prevent them from ever finding Earth and that they have a plan to destroy the Replicators and take back Atlantis. Teyla seems surprised, unwilling to believe that the four of them are about to attempt to retake the city by themselves.

“Forgive me,” says Teyla, “but it has been over a year… why come here?”

John shrugs as if it’s obvious. “You’re part of the team.”

“There may be hundreds of Replicators on Atlantis by now,” Teyla points out.

“We’ve got a plan,” says John.

“A good one,” Carson adds.

“I wouldn’t ask you to come with us if I didn’t think we could do it.” He glances at Elizabeth. “Heck, _we_ wouldn’t be here if we didn’t think we could do it.”

“General O’Neill and Richard Woolsey were both on Atlantis when the Replicators attacked,” Elizabeth adds. “There’s a chance they’re still alive.”

“If that is the case,” says Teyla, “then why aren’t there more of your people here?”

John grimaces around the table. “This plan isn’t exactly sanctioned by our bosses.”

“I see,” says Teyla.

“Look,” says John turning serious and pushing his empty bowl away from him. “I know it’s been a long time. Things change…” He smiles at Elizabeth and she grips his hand resting on the table. “But Atlantis is our home,” he adds determinedly, “and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let a bunch of Replicators take it away from us.”

“Are you going to eat that?” Rodney asks abruptly, gesturing to Elizabeth’s untouched bowl. “What?” he asks when everyone stares at him pointedly. “I’m hungry.”

“You’re always bloody hungry,” Carson points out.

Elizabeth shakes her head slightly, pushing the bowl in Rodney’s direction.

“It’s nice to see some things _don’t_ change,” Teyla says with a smile.

“So,” says John cautiously, “you in?”

Teyla hesitates, staring into the space behind them. Elizabeth catches something out of the corner of her eye and, distracted, turns to find Ronon Dex standing in the doorway, his usual fierceness diminished somewhat by the baby in his arms. Elizabeth is pretty sure her eyebrows have shot up into her hairline and she nudges John with her elbow, gesturing behind him. He turns, his mouth dropping open.

“Wow,” says John in astonishment. “I guess some things really have changed.”

“Yes,” says Teyla staring meaningfully at Elizabeth and John’s still clasped hands. “They have.”

Rodney looks up from his second finished bowl of food, completely oblivious to the turn in conversation. “Oh, hey Ronon,” he says seeing the Satedan for the first time. “What’s with the kid?” He stares at Ronon for a few moments before turning to the others. “Why’s he got a kid? Does he eat babies now?”

Elizabeth isn’t certain, but she’s pretty sure she hears Ronon growl from across the room.

“Are you serious?” says Carson in disbelief.

“What?” asks Rodney.

Carson nods between Ronon and Teyla until Rodney finally gets the hint.

“Oh,” says Rodney suddenly, “you mean they…”

Carson nods.

“And she…” Rodney points to Teyla. “With him?” He points to Ronon.

Carson nods again.

Rodney’s face scrunches up in disgust. “ _Seriously_? With _him_?”

Yep, this time, Ronon definitely growls.

*

“Can’t bloody take you anywhere,” Carson mutters under his breath.

“How was I supposed to know?” Rodney hisses as Carson shoves him unceremoniously out of the hut. They are heading back to the jumper for medical supplies; the Athosian medical system is not something to be envied so Carson has offered his services whilst they are here and Teyla has graciously accepted.

A silence settles over the small home without their bickering and Elizabeth finds she can’t take her eyes off the infant. The baby has Teyla’s kind eyes, Ronon’s chin. Elizabeth maps out all of the features on the boy’s face, decides which came from his father and which from his mother. His presence is like a giant pink elephant in the room and he looks so small cradled in the Satedan’s arms.

They have no right to ask Ronon and Teyla to do this. No right to be here at all. They shouldn’t have come.

Teyla catches Ronon up on what he’s missed, but he gets the gist of it. Something is wrong; why else would they be here, asking for their help.

The baby starts to fuss and the Satedan starts to bounce him, cradling the back of the baby’s neck in a gesture more gentle than Elizabeth would have thought the large man would be capable of. He seems settled here, she thinks, and wonders when Ronon had stopped feeling the urge, the _need_ , to kill the wraith. She would never have pegged him for a farmer, a father, but then again, Ronon has always been a mystery to her, someone she finds very hard to read.

She couldn’t ask this of them. They were John’s team yes, and Atlantis meant something to them both too, but they have different responsibilities now. Elizabeth realises belatedly that she should have been more persistent with John about bringing Cadman and Lorne, because although she doesn’t like risking anyone’s lives, at least the two marines didn’t have husbands and wives to go back to, didn’t have children waiting for them at home, waiting and worrying if they were ever coming back.

John, however, takes this new development in his stride. “What’s his name?” he asks.

“Torren,” says Teyla, smiling fondly at her son, “after my father.”

“Can I?” asks John and gestures to the baby in Ronon’s arms. Ronon nods and carefully passes the baby into John’s capable hands.

The sight makes Elizabeth gasp. John Sheppard with a baby in his arms seems like the most natural thing in the world and he’s instantly making cooing noises and pulling faces, making the baby laugh.

He’s going to make a great father and she hates herself for not having told him that yet. But she can’t; they’ve come too far to turn back now. They have to see this through, with or without Ronon and Teyla’s help. The burden is hers to carry alone. She will not put John through it too.

Overwhelmed by emotion; the guilt and the worry, she retreats outside and welcomes the cool crisp air of the Athosian settlement. Fires dotted about the village still send up curls of smoke and it doesn’t take long for the smell of smoke and food and mud to fill her senses. Finally giving in to the nausea, Elizabeth leans over and retches against the side of the hut. She brings up nothing but bile and can’t remember the last time that she ate anything proper. She’s light headed when she straightens up and has to lean on the hut for support, fearful of her legs buckling underneath her.

“Are you alright?” It’s Teyla, her eyes wise and kind as she takes in Elizabeth’s dishevelled appearance.

Elizabeth wipes her mouth dry and glances in the direction of the doorway, but Teyla is quite alone as she leads Elizabeth to a nearby bench and gently pushes her to sit. The Athosian disappears for a moment and Elizabeth tucks her head between her knees, nausea still churning through her.

“Here,” says Teyla handing Elizabeth a steaming mug of tea. Elizabeth stares at it wearily. “It’ll help,” Teyla adds.

Elizabeth nods wordlessly and takes a small sip of the hot liquid. It burns her tongue but the sensation is oddly soothing against the feel of bile still clawing its way up her throat. The tea is bland and scentless and it quells her sickness almost immediately. She smiles at Teyla gratefully as the other woman takes a seat next to her.

“I used to drink five cups a day when I was carrying Torren,” Teyla recalls absently and Elizabeth freezes.

“I –” Elizabeth begins. “I mean, I’m not…”

“It’s alright,” says Teyla. “John is the father, yes?”

Elizabeth nods, words lost to her for the first time in her life, but she can’t help but feel that a huge weight has been lifted now that she is not carrying this secret by herself. But she’s wary all the same - she knows how close Teyla and John used to be. The fear must be evident in her eyes because Teyla’s features soften in surprise.

“He does not know?” Teyla deduces and shakes her head. “No, I doubt either of you would be here if he did,” she says wisely and Elizabeth feels guilt start to overwhelm her once again.

She glances up, expecting to see judgement in the Athosian’s brown eyes. Teyla takes her hand and grips it reassuringly, nothing but understanding and friendship in her look that Elizabeth doesn’t feel she deserves.

But there had always been mutual understanding and respect between the two leaders. And, she supposes, if their roles had been reversed, if it was Teyla’s settlement, Teyla’s people in danger, then the Athosian woman would stop at nothing to defend them. It is for that very reason that Elizabeth knows that they will come, that Teyla and Ronon will help them to retake Atlantis. Because the Replicators don’t just threaten Earth and the Milky Way, they threaten this galaxy too.

“Finish your tea,” Teyla orders gently, “I will find you something to eat that you should be able to keep down.”

Elizabeth smiles gratefully and now that her nausea is all but gone, hunger starts to well up within her and she has to remind herself that she’s eating for two. She can’t go skipping meals and straining her body until it collapses with exhaustion.

John finds her outside sometime later when her tea has gotten cold and she’s managed to keep down the small simple meal that Teyla provided her with.

“Hey,” he says quietly sitting down next to her on the bench, his arm going instinctively around her shoulders. She leans into him, grateful for his warm presence. The night has gotten colder and she suppresses a shiver as John places a soft kiss on top of her head, inhaling the scent of her. “You okay?” he asks and there’s more meaning behind the question than simple enquiry.

She nods and sighs deeply as she tucks her head under his chin, hand splayed across his chest until she can feel his heartbeat. His body is tense and she can tell he doesn’t believe her, but he doesn’t push it.

“Ronon and Teyla are willing to come,” he says. “They’re going to leave Torren with some neighbours.”

“We shouldn’t have asked them, John,” she says quietly.

She feels John shrug. “Well, they both seem pretty determined.”

“Hm,” she says, but it still doesn’t feel right. She’s comfortable in John’s arms and can feel exhaustion lulling her eyes closed. John says something else but she doesn’t hear him, sleep having already found her safe in John’s embrace.

*

Elizabeth wakes up in a small cot. John must have carried her inside Ronon and Teyla’s small home sometime during the night. She feels more rested than she has in days, yet her body still feels strained. Teyla brings her some more of her special tea and Elizabeth sips at it gratefully as the others gear up.

“They emit a directional energy beam that disrupts the connection between nanites,” Rodney explains as he unpacks the Anti-Replicator guns.

“Not what I asked,” Ronon says testing the weight of the gun in his hands.

Rodney sighs heavily. “Uh, yes. They work good,” he says and grimaces.

“Good,” says Ronon lifting the gun and staring down the sights in Rodney’s direction.

Rodney realises the gun is aimed at his head and blisters, shoving the gun down so it’s pointed at their feet. “And try not to waste the shots,” he says witheringly. “We can’t risk the Replicators figuring out the frequency before we carry out the plan.”

Ronon shrugs nonchalantly.

“Okay,” says John, “everyone set?”

_As we’ll ever be_ , Elizabeth thinks as she glances around her team: they make an odd sight. Carson looks pale and nervous, Rodney bounces with anticipation. Teyla looks small in the standard issue tac vest and even more so when she stands next to the bulking frame that is Ronon Dex. John’s the only one that looks like he was born for this. She can’t imagine what she herself must look like, and wonders if she looks as stricken with dread as she feels.

They head out of the wooden hut, Ronon and Teyla holding back to say goodbye to their son. Elizabeth watches the small family, questioning the sanity of their plan. John takes her hand and pulls her along in the direction of the jumper, his fingers threading through hers and it’s the most reassuring feeling in the world.

*

John launches the puddle jumper a few feet off the ground and brings it to a hovering position in front of the Stargate.

Rodney finishes tapping on the console in front of him. “Okay, the shield should lower when we dial.”

“Should?” says Carson anxiously.

Rodney ignores him and begins to dial the gate to Atlantis.

“If anyone’s having second thoughts,” says John lightly, “now’s the time to speak up.”

He meant it as a joke but it falls flat against the silent tension inside the small ship. Elizabeth leans forward and grips his shoulder reassuringly.

“And…” says Rodney, pausing for dramatic effect before punching in the final gate symbol. The Stargate’s event horizon whooshes out in front of them before retreating back into that familiar rippling pool. Rodney glances at his laptop. “Okay,” he says, “the gate shield has been lowered.”

John glances at everyone one last time before his eyes settle briefly on Elizabeth. She nods at him determinedly and he returns to the controls, piloting the puddle jumper smoothly through the Stargate.

One second they are on the edges of the Athosian settlement, the next they are in Atlantis’ gate room. Replicators have weapons trained on the gate as the puddle jumper bursts through, smashing into one of the Replicators as he rushes towards them and Elizabeth watches as it falls underneath the jumper.

Elizabeth gasps at the familiar site of the Atlantis gate room, just as she remembers it in every detail. Except, she doesn’t remember it crawling with Replicators. She feels a sudden fury at the thought of them in her home.

The Replicators begin firing on the jumper, but they are protected by its shield, the shots bouncing off harmlessly. John activates the radio as the Replicators continue to fire.

John barks his authentication code into the radio. “General O’Neill, Woolsey – do you copy?”

There’s silence for a moment before Jack O’Neill’s familiar voice sounds over the radio. “Sheppard? Is that you?”

“Yes, sir,” John replies. “I need to know if you’re anywhere near Stargate Operations.”

“No,” says O’Neill slowly, “we’re not.”

“That’s good,” says John and shifts his focus back to the controls as the Replicators continue to fire on them. “Can’t talk now, I’ll get back to you soon, sir. Sheppard out.” John snaps off the radio and turns to Rodney. “Drop the package.”

Rodney presses a few buttons, releasing the jumper’s magnetic seal. There’s a clatter underneath the jumper as the bomb is released. “Package is away.”

“Hold on,” says John.

Elizabeth braces herself, hands griping the arms of her chair. John throws the jumper into reverse, sending it back through the Stargate and smashing through the wall behind it. They’re buffeted by the explosion as John is turning the jumper around, sending everyone flying forward. Elizabeth’s only still in her chair because she’s holding on so tight, her knuckles turning white with the strain.

“Remind me to tell Cadman her timing sucks,” John complains, manoeuvring the puddle jumper away from the central tower.

“Shields have been damaged!” Rodney announces.

The HUD starts flashing loudly in warning.

“Drones!” Teyla says her voice filled with fear as she grips Ronon’s arm to keep herself upright.

“Alright, hold on,” says John and starts to weave the ship in and out of city’s skyscrapers.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Carson complains, his face pale.

“Just take deep breaths, Carson,” Elizabeth orders him, but she isn’t far off behind him as her stomach churns unpleasantly.

The drones are hot on their tail, John’s shoulders tense from concentrating so hard on the controls as zigzags the ship evasively between buildings.

“Watch out,” Rodney yelps as the puddle jumper flies dangerously close between two walk ways.

“I see it, McKay,” John grumbles in annoyance. He weaves the jumper between the two buildings and Elizabeth can hear the drone crash into it behind them, causing an explosion.

“Keep this up,” she points out, “and there won’t be much of a city left to save.”

“Sorry, honey,” he says absently. “I’ll try to run the drones into your least favourite buildings.”

Elizabeth rolls her eyes. “How many drones left?”

“Two,” Rodney tells her just as one clips the jumpers left side.

“Are you sure you know where this underwater jumper bay is?” John asks his voice tense.

Rodney nods. “But the drones might be able to detect us even under water.”

“I’ll take my chances,” says John and flies the puddle jumper away from the city. He retracts the engine pods as they reach the edge and plunges the ship straight into the ocean.

“The drones have lost us,” Rodney says in relief. “They’re moving away.”

“Nice piloting, Colonel,” Elizabeth says and leans over to kiss him on the cheek.

He grunts in acknowledgement before activating the radio again. “General O’Neill. Are you there, sir?”

They receive nothing but static and for one awful moment, Elizabeth worries that they were in the section of Atlantis that got hit by the drone.

“Yeah,” says O’Neill through the radio. “We’re here. Where are you now?”

“We’re headed towards an underwater jumper bay,” John informs him.

“Well, what we think _may_ be an underwater jumper bay,” Elizabeth adds.

There’s silence over the radio for a moment before General O’Neill’s voice returns through the static. “Is that your _wife_ I hear, Sheppard?”

John grimaces slightly as he turns to face her.

“Uh,” says Elizabeth, “yes it is. It’s good to hear your voice too, Jack.”

“I didn’t say it was _good_ ,” O’Neill snaps. “Please don’t be offended as I express my… _surprise_ that Landry would send you on a mission like this.”

Elizabeth glances at John. Neither of them had given much thought to Jack’s reaction to their ill-advised rescue mission. He sounds pissed.

“Well, sir,” she says and doesn’t know why she feels the need to add the sir when he’s no longer her boss, but she supposes a part of her is hoping to appease him somewhat. “General Landry didn’t sanction this mission,” she confesses.

O’Neill sighs heavily. “So, am I to assume you are _not_ surrounded by heavily-armed SG teams and young strapping marines?”

Elizabeth glances around the puddle jumper at the blatant absence of strapping young men with guns, her eyes falling on Carson, who’s now turned a sickly shade of green, and Rodney, sweating profusely as he fiddles with his laptop.

“Ah, no,” says Elizabeth, her voice apologetic as she tells him who _is_ here.

“Did you at least bring Carter?” O’Neill asks.

“No,” says Rodney shooting John a scathing look. “Sheppard shot her.”

“Excuse me?” O’Neill says, and Elizabeth notes the tinge of worry in his voice.

“With a zat gun!” John says hurriedly. “Once.” John glares in Rodney’s general direction.

“Look, sir,” John adds. “We’ve got a plan – a good one.”

“Yes, Colonel, I’m sure you do,” says O’Neill. “But in the unlikely event that you don’t fail miserably…” His voice turns hard as he adds: “you’re fired.”

John’s eyes widen. “Yes, sir…” He looks at Elizabeth miserably. “Look forward to that.”

*

They’ve landed in the underwater jumper bay and Rodney starts pressing buttons rapidly on his computer to seal the outer door and pressurise the bay.

“It’s not letting me do it,” Rodney says.

“Do what?” John asks.

Ronon gestures for Elizabeth to follow him into the rear compartment and her eyes widen when he points to the ceiling.

“The water’s not draining out,” Carson states stupidly.

“Yes,” says Rodney derisively, “excellent observation, thank you.”

“It is, however,” Elizabeth interrupts, “draining _in_.”

She stares at the water trickling down from the roof near the bulkhead doors, steadily getting faster. John gets up to take a look, resting his hand gently on the small of her back.

“Must’ve taken some damage when the shield got hit,” he mutters.

“Rodney,” says Elizabeth expectantly and all eyes turn to the scientist.

“Why does everyone always think I have some great idea to save the day?” he complains loudly.

“Because you usually do,” says Elizabeth reasonably, trying to calm down Rodney’s panic.

“Just reopen the outer doors,” John suggests, “will figure out another way into the city.”

Rodney nods and turns back to his computer to begin typing. “Oh no,” he says as the computer beeps negatively at him.

“McKay…” John says threateningly.

“I think the outer door might be jammed,” he says his face filled with dread.

John scowls. “ _Might_ be?”

“Ok, is,” Rodney counters.

“What about a manual override?” Elizabeth asks as John tries desperately in vain to block the water trickling in.

“It’s in the bay’s control room,” says Rodney with forced patience, “which is sealed from the other side.”

“Of _course_ it is,” John grumbles from the rear compartment.

Elizabeth looks at him and she can tell he’s trying not to panic even as the water continues to rush in. There’s already a small puddle forming at his feet and it’s only getting worse.

“What about General O’Neill?” Teyla suggests. “Perhaps he can reach it.”

John looks at Rodney expectantly.

“Worth a shot.” Rodney shrugs.

John activates his radio. “General O’Neill, we’re going to need a favour.”

*

It takes the general a dangerously long time to reach the control switch that drains the puddle jumper bay. Elizabeth spends the time ringing her hands together restlessly and trying not to get annoyed by the worried looks John keeps sending her way every five seconds.

Eventually, the water drains away and John lowers the hatch of the rear compartment, deftly catching the ARG that Ronon tosses his way.

“Something’s wrong,” Rodney says.

“Isn’t it always,” says Carson sarcastically.

Rodney ignores him. “I can’t reach Woolsey.”

“Should we go after them?” Elizabeth asks.

“No,” John says, shaking his head. “Let’s stick to the plan. We’ll go after them later.”

John splits them into groups of two and she can tell he’s thinking like a soldier when he pairs her off with Ronon and Teyla with Carson. He doesn’t want to get distracted, and they both would, she knows, too busy worrying about the other if they went together. He grips her hand as he hands her the Anti-Replicator gun.

“Stay safe,” he says, kissing her briefly on the lips, a hard look in his eyes.

“You too,” she says and wishes she could have more than this brief goodbye with him, but they are running out of time.

“Take care of my wife,” John adds as Ronon passes. The Satedan nods, twirling the gun around his index finger.

The three groups split up into different directions of the city, heading for the shield emitters.

“I hope this plan of McKay’s works,” says Ronon, his voice gruff.

“So do I,” says Elizabeth.

“We’re going to be screwed if it doesn’t,” the Satedan points out bluntly.

Elizabeth tries not to think about it.

They reach the first shield emitter in record time and Elizabeth begins to integrate the disruptor crystal into the emitter just like Rodney showed her. That’s the easy part. Attaching the C4 is much more difficult and her fingers tremble slightly as she hooks the cables up.

“So,” says Ronon from his position of keeping watch. “You and Sheppard…”

He leaves the question hanging in the air between them, glancing at her expectantly.

“So,” Elizabeth counters, “you and Teyla?”

Ronon grins and Elizabeth turns her focus back to her work.

“You know,” Ronon continues, “I always thought you two would…” He raises his eyebrow suggestively.

“Oh,” says Elizabeth in surprise. Had _everyone_ in Atlantis thought that she and John had been having some secret love affair? She shakes her head at the thought. It didn’t exactly matter now anyway, now that they were together. Now that she was carrying his child.

“You guys seem happy though,” Ronon observes.

“Yes, we are,” Elizabeth says and quickly stifles the thought that mocks the fact that she is currently keeping something from him. A big something. “So do you and Teyla.”

“Yeah,” says Ronon.

The conversation dries up after that (and it’s probably the longest conversation she’s ever had with the Pegasus native) and she finishes attaching the last cable, sliding the crystal tray shut.

They head to the next emitter, still no sign of any Replicators and their absence makes her heart pound in apprehension. It doesn’t feel right. They should have been caught by now. The Replicators knew they had infiltrated Atlantis, so why hadn’t they come for them?

She finishes attaching the C4 to the last emitter and is shutting the crystal tray when she hears a crash from behind her. She whips around just as strong hands grab her arms; two Replicators on either side of her. She watches Ronon struggle for a bit before the Replicators overpower him and knock him to the ground. The Replicators drag her forwards and she doesn’t resist, not wanting to risk them hurting her unborn child.

They take them both to the brig; Carson and Teyla have already been caught and O’Neill and Woolsey stare at them in despair as they are shoved callously into the cell. Teyla immediately reaches for Ronon’s side. The Satedan is still unconscious and she cradles his head in her arms as Beckett checks him over.

“He’ll be fine,” Carson says as Ronon groans awake.

“But _we_ won’t,” Woolsey points out.

Richard Woolsey hasn’t changed much since the last time Elizabeth saw him, still the typical IOA man and she tries not to let his unhindered panic get on her nerves.

Jack greets her warmly, despite his misgivings about their “rescue mission” and she is grateful for his presence as she squeezes his arm reassuringly.

The Replicators return ten minutes later, dragging John and Rodney along with them and shoving them into the cell. John lands on the floor with a groan and Elizabeth rushes to his side.

"Are you alright?" she asks, helping him up and checking him for injuries, knowing that he would have put up a fight for appearances sake more than anything.

He nods, glancing about at the others. "Did everyone manage to…"

Elizabeth nods. "Question is: did the Replicators fall for it?"

"We'll find out soon enough," says John.

"I'm fine by the way, thanks for asking," Rodney grumbles from his position on the floor. John and Carson roll their eyes simultaneously and pull him to his feet.

They don’t have long to wait before one of the Replicators returns to the brig. He looks to be the leader, judging by the arrogant way he drawls at them, informing them that their plan has failed and that all the C4 has been removed from the shield emitters. He doesn’t mention the disruptor crystals and Elizabeth hides a smile when he boasts to them that the _Daedalus_ ’ weapons will be no match for their shields.

Another Replicator contacts the leader from the control room, informing him that the _Daedalus_ is now within range.

The leader smirks maliciously. “Activate the shield.”

It happens instantaneously. The shield activates and a light blue energy wave descends across the entire city, disrupting the bonds between the individual nanites and disintegrating the Replicators until they are nothing but dust, wiping the smug look off the leader Replicator’s face as he crumbles before their eyes.

Elizabeth feels the wave pass through her entire body like an ocean breeze. It chokes the breath out of her throat, leaves her head pounding inexplicably. She staggers backwards, clutching onto the bars of the cell to keep from falling. John’s hands are immediately at her waist, holding her up and she can hear him calling her name, but it’s like he’s shouting from the top of a mountain and she’s at the bottom, and his voice gets lost in rush of blood to her head.

Embarrassingly, she notes that no one else has reacted to the energy wave at all and she uses all her strength to look John in the eye, assure him that she’s okay even as her voice shakes with the words, even as the bile reaches up her throat and all she wants to do is hurl on the floor and curl up in the corner and pass out.

One of             John’s hands is at her forehead, pushing the hair out of her face and she can feel cool sweat dripping over every inch of her skin. Carson is hovering nearby; desperate to help but unwilling to get in John’s way.

“I’m fine,” she insists more forcefully, shooting Carson a look that dares him to say otherwise.

“Perhaps it’s just the exertion of the mission,” Teyla says reasonably.

Elizabeth shoots her a grateful look as she pushes John away slightly and manages to stay upright on her own two feet, the unpleasant feeling gone quicker than it began, but she’s still left with familiar nausea stirring through her veins like an almost constant companion. Carson looks like he doesn’t buy it and John still looks worried, his hand never leaving hers as they make their way out of the cell and up to the control room, like he’s worried she’s going to have another funny turn and wants to be within easy reach of catching her should her legs decide to give out once again.

They pass piles and piles of silver dust on the way and she tries to mentally calculate how many Replicators there were on Atlantis. Too many for her sick addled brain to comprehend at the moment and that fury returns at the thought of them in her city, violating her home.

They contact the _Daedalus_   from the control room and it takes Colonel Caldwell some convincing before he believes that they aren’t compromised. Elizabeth isn’t surprised when he beams down an armed team to check them out just in case. Steven had always been thorough and she admired that about him even if he did tend to be a bit forceful and itching to get his hands on John’s job in Atlantis.

The Replicators have done something to disable the Stargate, but Rodney is fairly confident he can fix it without too much trouble. It’s an easy excuse for not contacting Earth too quickly and Elizabeth is grateful when Jack doesn’t order their arrest and return to Earth immediately aboard the _Daedalus._

After leaving them some basic supplies, the _Daedalus_ returns to Earth with Richard Woolsey aboard determined to get off of Atlantis as soon as possible even if it means spending three weeks in hyperspace cooped up in a spaceship. In a state of survivor’s relief, he hugs an uncomfortable Jack O’Neill goodbye before Hermiod beams him aboard.

Jack coughs self-consciously before straightening himself up in an effort to look more manly.

“So, you shot Carter, huh?” Jack says, wiping the smirk off John’s face.

“Uh…” John begins. “In my defence, it was to keep her out of trouble.”

Jack shrugs. “I can see why you might need to do that,” he says flippantly. “But answer me one thing,” he says, his tone turning stern. “What the hell were you people drinking when you thought this was a good idea?”

Elizabeth and John stare at each other sheepishly.

“Now, I may be glad I’m not dead,” he continues, “but have you both lost your minds?”

“Sir,” John starts but Elizabeth interrupts.

“You’re welcome, Jack,” she says in her most rational voice.

Jack grumbles for a bit before rolling his eyes and leaving to go pester Rodney for an update.

*

John, Ronon and Teyla split up to scour the city to make sure the Replicators have left nothing nasty behind. It’s just a precaution, and probably a needless one, but she thinks John needs something to do to keep himself occupied whilst they wait for word from Earth. She can tell he’s worried about what will happen now that it’s over, now that Atlantis is free from Replicators and Ancients alike. Jack may be grateful for the rescue, but that doesn’t mean that the rest of the SGC are going to be as thrilled by their renegade mission. John’s also still worried about her, only leaving her side when she assures him for the tenth time that she is fine, that nothing terrible is going to happen to her in the control room, not with Carson keeping his own concerned eyes on her.

Elizabeth walks past Rodney with his head stuck inside the DHD, barking orders at Carson to hand him tools every now and then. Carson makes a show of rolling his eyes as she walks by heading to her office.

Except it’s not her office anymore. Everything that made it her office is gone. The desk, the computer, the first birthday present John ever gave her. All the little things that made up her time in Atlantis, that defined her leadership, are gone leaving a stark, empty room. It’s smaller than she remembers and she has a sudden flood of memories: scheduled meetings with the science teams, unscheduled meetings when things had turned to shit, those late nights when she worked until the early hours of the morning, forgetting to eat or sleep. And those times when she had retreated to this sanctuary of walls and windows when John and his team had failed to return from a mission. The pep talks John used to give (and was surprisingly good at) when everything seemed to go wrong and every decision she made was a bad one.

She had fought battles in this room; saved lives and ended them. Signed trade agreements and negotiation treaties, translated the language of the Ancients and discovered something new every day.

Elizabeth had fallen in love in this room.

It is easy to think of it now and she remembers clearly the day she realised John meant more to her than any military commander should. Now that she’s no longer his boss, now that their feelings are out there in the big wide open for anyone to see, she can admit that she had started falling for him long before their return to Earth. She still has nightmares about John getting fed on by a wraith, with her watching, unable to do anything to prevent it, with her allowing it to continue because she had principles and a job to do, because John had wanted it and would never have forgiven her if she gave in and handed over Ladon Radim. Her feelings for him have only gotten stronger, their relationship very different from what it was then and she doubts she could be that strong now.

She doubts she could do any of this alone without John: Atlantis (whatever may come of it), their unborn child. She rests her hands over her belly, imagining she can feel it there, growing inside of her. But she feels nothing, not even a flicker of _something_ , and she feels an irrational sense of foreboding that she can’t seem to shake.

“Getting all settled in?” Jack’s voice startles her out of her thoughts. He smiles at her sheepishly when she turns around, like he’s just interrupted something important and wishes he could take it back.

“The Replicators aren’t much for decorating,” she comments, glancing around the Spartan room once again. “Although, they have made an excellent job of repairing the damage to the gate room.” And they have: there is a complete absence of anything to indicate that a bomb went off down there a few hours ago.

Jack grunts non-committedly.

“So what happens now?” Elizabeth asks.

“As soon as McKay gets the Stargate working again,” says Jack, “a quick jumper ride home, followed by a hot shower, followed by –”

“Jack,” Elizabeth interrupts knowing him well enough by now to know that he could go on for a while if he wants. “I meant it a little more selfishly.”

Jack sighs heavily and avoids her gaze. “You know how many laws you broke?”

“Yes,” says Elizabeth.

“Look,” Jack tries again, “if it were up to me…”

“It _is_ up to you,” Elizabeth points out.

“Oh,” says Jack and shrugs, “…right.”

Elizabeth raises her eyebrows in expectation as Jack looks at her, defeated and a little bit tired.

“Is this even what you want?” he asks.

The question almost startles her and not because she hasn’t thought about it, but because she can’t imagine ever leaving Atlantis again, at least not willingly. She had gone into this mission with only the thought of eradicating the Replicators and saving the city. She had tried not to think about much beyond that. But now that she is here, back in her office, her city, she doesn’t want to leave, doesn’t want to let go. She had come here expecting to find closure, instead she found the exact opposite.

She doesn’t know what she’ll do if they try to take it away from her again.

“It’s not going to be easy,” says Jack.

“I know,” says Elizabeth. _More than you know_ , she thinks and her hand automatically covers her belly.

“The IOA aren’t going to like it,” Jacks adds, “given your marital status.”

“I can handle the IOA,” she says.

Jack grunts in agreement. “Plus,” he adds, “you’ll probably have Woolsey in your corner.”

She’s surprised at that and struggles to imagine Richard Woolsey fighting in anyone’s corner, let alone her and John’s.

“And you definitely have my vote,” Jack says more seriously.

Elizabeth smiles and impulsively pulls him into a hug before he can pull away. He lets out a little noise of surprise before patting her awkwardly on the back.

“Thank you,” she whispers and pulls away from him.

He smiles awkwardly before making a hasty retreat to the safety of the control room where he’s free from risk of unexpected hugs. Elizabeth tries not to laugh, but then she looks over her city and the smile of delight is hard to wipe off her face.

*

John finds her out on the balcony later. She’s retreated out here for some solace and the ocean view, but mostly just to get away from Rodney and Carson’s bickering (punctuated every now and then by Jack’s impatient complaints). The air smells of salt and it’s not too cold yet for the time of day. It must be spring time on the planet, she thinks as she watches the waves gently lap against Atlantis’ south pier. She’s always found this spot peaceful, the ocean calming. It’s where she used to come to think or to spend five minutes alone before the next meeting, the next emergency. Most of her people had learned to give her a wide berth when she retreated out here. Everyone except John.

She knows it’s him when the doors slide open, can feel his eyes boring into her back. There’s an absence of arguing from the control room before the doors slide shut again and she wonders absently where Rodney’s got to and if he’s finished fixing the Stargate yet.

John comes up behind her, his hands resting either side of her on the railing, effectively trapping her in. John nuzzles the side of her neck and she moans, leaning into his touch, her eyes closing for the briefest of seconds. She’s worn out, the exhaustion of the past couple of days finally catching up with her and it’s all she can do not to fall asleep in John’s arms again.

“Find anything interesting?” she asks.

“Oh,” says John casually, “just three ZPMs.”

“What?” Elizabeth asks, not quite believing him.

“You should see Rodney,” John continues, “he looks like Christmas just came early.”

She can imagine easily just how excited Rodney must be at the prospect of three ZPMs and is glad she’s managed to avoid his bouncing enthusiasm. She’s too tired to think about the potential of having three of the power source, but she can’t help but think of it as another way to appease the IOA, especially if they give up one for Earth’s Antarctic outpost.

“What are you thinking?” John asks.

She sighs as one of John’s arm snakes around her waist, tugging her closer. “That I’d like a really hot bath,” she says. “Or a bed. A bed would be good.”

“Oh yeah?” says John cheekily, his lips finding the crook of her neck and acting in the most suggestive way possible.

“To sleep in, John,” she clarifies but it’s a little distractedly as John’s hand starts to inch underneath her shirt.

“Well, who needs a bed anyway,” says John, whipping her around to face him so he can capture her lips with his own.

Elizabeth tangles her fingers through his hair as John deepens the kiss and presses her into the railing. They haven’t had a moment alone properly for days and she hasn’t realised how much she’s missed him – missed _this_ – until she tastes his lips on hers and feels his hands brushing the skin at her waist and slowing inching upwards, leaving goose bumps in his wake.

“John,” she breathes when he finally lets her up for air to trail kisses down her neck. She pushes him away slightly, conscious of where they are and how heated things have become already.

“What?” says John, claiming her bottom lip and nibbling on it playfully. “Haven’t you ever fantasized about this?”

She pulls away from him slightly. “On the balcony?” she asks incredulously. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “I always thought of it as our balcony.”

She raises her eyebrows at that, glancing at the openness of the area, the door leading to the control room and the other one around the corner.

“Why,” says John, “what did you use to fantasize about?”

“Well,” she begins and kisses him again to draw the confession out, knowing it’ll work him up and enjoying the fact that she can still make him squirm. “If we were going to be sneaking about Atlantis having sex,” she begins, “I always figured we’d be a little more discrete.”

“And…” he prompts.

“I always imagined us doing it in a puddle jumper,” she says, remembering one of the many vivid dreams she used to have during her time in Atlantis. Being practically celibate for two years had set her subconscious going on full swing and working closely with John with her ever growing attraction to him hadn’t helped.

John’s eyebrows shoot up in intrigue. “On the ground or in flight?” he asks.

She leans in closer. “Who says I only had the one fantasy?” she whispers and kisses him softly as his eyes widen in surprise.

“Well, you know,” says John suggestively, “it can still be arranged…”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says.

She likes the sound of that and wonders briefly how easy it would be for the both of them to sneak away without any of the others noticing. But almost as soon as the thought enters her head, the doors to the control room slide open and very excited looking Rodney McKay bounces towards them. As he tends to do these days, his nose scrunches up in disgust when he sees them in their affectionate embrace.

John pulls away in frustration and gives Rodney his best glare but it's diminished somewhat by tiredness slumping his features. They've all had a stressful couple of days - even Rodney looks borderline exhausted – and she has half a mind to order them all to bed for some much needed sleep.

"Oh good, you're not busy," says Rodney. "I need your help with something."

"Can't you ask Carson?" John all but growls.

"He's tidying up the infirmary," Rodney explains. "I don't know where Ronon and Teyla are and General O'Neill is pretending to be asleep."

John sighs. "Give us a minute?"

Rodney stares at them for a moment with an impatient air about him.

"Alone," John clarifies.

"Oh," Rodney says his cheeks turning pink before he makes a hasty retreat.

"You know," John says to her, shaking his head as Rodney escapes, "we stay on Atlantis, we're never going to find time alone."

Elizabeth raises her eyebrow. “So we _are_ staying on Atlantis?” she asks because it’s not her decision alone to make. No matter how much she wants – no, _needs_ – to stay on Atlantis the choice affects the both of them. She’d stay here in a heartbeat and something in her look must tell John that because he smiles at her reassuringly and kisses her softly.

“I’ll go wherever you go,” he says quietly and it scares her how much he means it, that he’s so willing to give up everything just for her, follow her to the edge of the universe and back if it makes her happy. It’s a dangerous road they walk, one that could get them into serious trouble and has done before. The Pegasus galaxy has always been harsh and fierce, never relenting. She needs more than her two hands to count how many times she almost lost him, to the Wraith and the Genii, iratus bugs and Rodney’s ego – how many more times will she have to go through it again if they stay here on Atlantis?

She doesn’t want to think about it, but that doesn’t stop her mind from imagining it, from picturing John’s bleeding and broken body. She used to feel so helpless, so inferior, could do nothing but stand idly by whilst the decision between life and death lay in someone else’s hands, whilst she sent team after team through the gate after him and every time wondering if she was being more than a little selfish because she couldn’t bear the thought of losing her military commander. He was her rock, the reason she managed to get out of bed in the mornings and keep going even when it looked as if the whole galaxy was out to get them.

John had been her strength through all the tough choices and bad mistakes. He was her equal, her partner in everything. Even more so now and she cannot imagine doing any of this all over again without him.

“Are you sure?” she asks. John kisses her to prove his point, always better with actions than with words. “John, I don’t want you to stay here just because of me.”

“That wouldn’t be the only reason,” he says pulling back slightly to look at her better. “I’ve missed Atlantis too,” he adds.

“It’ll be hard,” she tells him. “I’ll be your boss.”

“Elizabeth,” says John, his eyes twinkling in mischief. “I think we both know you’ve _always_ been the boss, in every aspect of our relationship.”

She laughs softly. It’s all abstract anyway, the decision out of their hands and into the arms of the IOA and she doubts, even with Jack and Woolsey backing them up, that they’ll both be allowed to stay. It will be one or the other or none at all, so she keeps her mouth shut, doesn’t tell John the secret that has been burning on her lips since she arrived at the SGC in what feels like a lifetime ago now. And maybe it’s selfish of her, and maybe she is a coward, but she can’t make the words come out and tell him no matter how hard she tries. Because she can’t tell him until she’s sure.

“So…” says John. “About that puddle jumper?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“I thought you preferred the balcony?” she says, leaning backwards into the rail and pulling him with her until he’s flush against her, her hands going up underneath the back of his shirt until she can feel the taut muscles beneath his skin. “Although I still don’t get why.”

John shrugs as if it’s obvious. “Oh, you know… the thrill… the rush of having sex as quick as possible before getting caught.”

“Quick as possible, huh?” she says. “That’s a lot to aspire to,” she adds teasingly,

“Never heard you complaining before,” he retorts and does that thing to her neck that always gets her wanting for more and she knows he’s doing it just to piss her off, that Rodney will be back at any minute, demanding to know what is taking them so long. But that doesn’t stop the perverted part of her wondering just how far he’d dare to go with Rodney McKay right on the other side of the door.

Okay, he has a point, it is kind of thrilling, but she pushes him away slightly, and it takes all her strength and willpower not to just seize his lips with hers, rip apart his shirt to get to the skin underneath.

“Maybe later,” she whispers with a hint of regret.

He nods resolutely. “I better go find out what McKay wants anyway.”

She grabs his wrist before he can move away too far. “I love you,” she says because she feels like she hasn’t said it in a while, hasn’t proved it. And there goes that wandering thought again, that sobering voice that reminds her she’s hiding something from him.

He seems startled by the intensity of her words for a moment before he smiles brightly. “Love you too,” he says and she feels unworthy of it.

*

The Lantean architecture is always something she has admired in its complex simplicity. She’s never really understood the tanks with the water bubbles though, but they’re pretty nice to look at and they break up the monotony of the corridor as she is passing.

Elizabeth still remembers the way as clearly as if she had walked down these halls yesterday. The path to the infirmary is one she had trekked often, usually to check up on John, and it welcomes her like an old friend with its bright, sterile lights. Carson is busy at work sorting out what the Ancients have left behind and what the Replicators haven’t destroyed.

She hesitates at the entrance and considers turning back and slipping away before the Scottish surgeon notices her, but she still can’t shake that feeling of dread that’s been sitting in her heart since the Replicators were destroyed. She’s afraid, she realises, but not for herself. It’s the thought of the tiny life inside of her, so helpless and alone, that she can’t shake.

Carson whips around when she enters the room and smiles clumsily at her when he realises who has disturbed his work.

“Elizabeth, love,” he says, “how’re you feeling?”

The words ‘I’m fine’ almost fall from her lips, but she’s not fine, hasn’t been fine since she found out the Replicators had taken over Atlantis. Something in her demeanour must startle Carson for he pulls her quickly to a sitting position on one of the beds.

“Elizabeth, what’s wrong?”

Somehow, Carson’s gentle bedside manner has the exact opposite effect it’s supposed to and instead of feeling calm and comforted she’s holding back tears and fighting for control to stop the sob from breaking out of her throat.

“I-I need you to do a full body scan,” she gasps out and she knows her voice is anything but calm and steady. She’s been holding it together for so long, the cracks are finally starting to show and she’s hanging on the edge waiting to finally fall.

“Why?” Carson asks startled, and then it hits him. “The nanites… you think Rodney’s energy wave did something to the ones inside of you… your funny turn...” Carson shakes his head.

The thought had crossed her mind; it was no coincidence that overwhelming feeling when the wave had hit and she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

“But your nanites are inert – the energy wave shouldn’t have affected them,” Carson continues.

He’s trying to reassure her, she can tell, but it doesn’t work, it _won’t_ work because she can’t _feel_ it. Can’t feel the child growing within her and it scares her more than anything, more than losing Atlantis. More than losing John, she thinks and wants to cry.

“Carson, I’m pregnant,” she blurts.

Carson’s jaw dropping open would be almost comical if the situation didn’t feel so dire.

“Oh,” he says.

“I need… I need you to check…” But she can’t say it because saying it will make her fear too real and she’s not ready to face that yet.

Understanding dawns on Carson’s face and he motions for Elizabeth to lie back on the infirmary bed whilst he sets up the medical scanner. She’s been in this position before: her lying motionless, with the scanner overhead and the nanites infecting her body, taking her over and leaving her defenceless and powerless against them. The scanner hums as the green lights probe over every inch of her body, like it’s trying to see inside to the very depths of her soul.

Carson’s in doctor mode and his face is impassive as he tries to put some distant between his friend and his patient. She can tell he’s struggling, that he wants to say something and she knows what it is long before he ever voices it.

Carson checks over the readings from the machine carefully as Elizabeth sits up, straightening her shirt with trembling hands, waiting for the inevitable.

"The baby's fine," says Carson.

She lets out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding, but still doesn't quite believe him.

"But I haven't felt..."

"Aye, well, you wouldn't at only six weeks along," Carson explains.

"Oh," she says but it's more of sob and she doesn't even try to hold back the tears. Carson seems a little startled by her crying and pats her awkwardly on the arm.

"And the nanites?" she asks snivelling, not completely sure she even wants to know the answer. Carson hands her a tissue and she does her best to clean herself up, to compose herself.

"No sign of nanites in the foetus," says Carson clinically. "They all seem to be concentrated within your own body. But I'd still like to do regular checks," he adds as Elizabeth hops off the bed. "To be honest with you," he continues hesitantly, "I didn't think it would have been possible for you to even get pregnant."

She nods her head, neither did she and she remembers having a similar conversation with Carson after the nanites had infected her, taken over her brain and made her believe Atlantis was never real. She had listened to Carson in Doctor Beckett mode, trying to sound detached but in the end he had gotten more upset than she did.

It's no excuse for an unplanned pregnancy though.

“Carson,” she says slowly, her back to him, “John can’t know about this.”

She can picture the sceptic look of disbelief on his face, the look of concern in his kind eyes and she can’t bring herself to turn around. Because he doesn’t understand and part of her hates to put him in the middle like this. But she knows he won’t say anything, knows he values his Hippocratic Oath too much to betray her trust.

That doesn’t make it easier to justify it to herself though. She tells herself it’s for John’s own good, until they know for sure where they stand with Atlantis and she can accept that as an excuse because there is still a sliver of doubt in her mind that they’ll actually be allowed to stay, that the IOA will just hand the city back over to them.

It’s an easy excuse to believe, easier than the truth. That she’s terrified of what the future will bring, terrified of letting John down. She’s terrified of losing herself and all that she stands for even as Atlantis stands so close and within her reach.

She leaves before Carson can say anything and the silence that follows is deafening to her ears.

*

Inexplicably, unimaginably, the IOA let them stay.

They are on a probation of sorts, the IOA breathing down their necks and she has no doubt they have spies watching everything they do. She has no idea how Jack and Woolsey managed to persuade them, how they convinced the IOA and the SGC that John and Elizabeth are a package deal, that they both deserve to return to Atlantis and take up command once again.

More surprising still is that their renegade mission has no repercussions and she wonders how General Landry feels about that. She doesn’t think about it though, happy with what she has even with the eyes constantly watching her back, waiting for her and John to screw this all up.

It’s funny, how quickly things go back to the way they used to be. Her office, now that they’ve found her some furniture, looks exactly as before, the only addition being the photograph of her and John on their wedding day propped up next to the framed picture of Sedge.

Even the faces haven’t changed. Oh, there are a few new personnel but most of the faces are familiar. Both military and civilian alike had jumped at the chance to return to Atlantis. Some people had moved on during that year when the city had been lost, but most, like her, couldn’t let go of the city and the galaxy they had called home for two years.

It doesn’t take Elizabeth long to get used to the mantel of leadership again and any awkwardness she had anticipated with John as her second in command is quickly dismantled when they deal with their first crisis of many. They work well together, they always have, but now they are more quick to anticipate each other’s moves, know what the other is thinking without it needing it to be said. It makes dealing with the emergencies that little bit easier.

But as she looks over the gate room from her vantage point in her office, watches as the last of the personnel come through the Stargate and the event horizon close behind them, she thinks about all the possibilities of the inevitable trouble they are going to get into and wonders when the proverbial shoe is going to drop. It all seems too easy, their return to Atlantis.

It doesn’t take trouble long to find them.


	3. Part 3

It is scary how quickly they both fall into a routine. She finds herself spending more time in her office during those early days than she would like and more often than not, John has to drag her to the mess hall himself to ensure that she eats and he hovers over her as she’s finishing paperwork, fingers playing gently with her hair until she gives in and calls it a night. She would work herself to the bone if he let her.

That doesn’t stop her from checking her emails in bed. She can feel John glare at her from the bathroom as she opens up the nineteenth email from Rodney McKay that day. He only sent it ten minutes ago, so at least she’s not the only one still up working. It’s only a small comfort and she groans when she scans through the email. It’s fairly similar to the previous eighteen – more reasons why the three ZPMs should stay on Atlantis with the expedition. She promptly deletes it and puts her tablet away before John’s finished brushing his teeth, feigning innocence when he ventures out of the bathroom.

“I think we need a new rule,” he says slipping into the bed beside her. “No working in our quarters.”

His tone is light but she can tell it bothers him, her working this much. Before the Ancients came home her work habits weren’t so deeply scrutinised and she got away with working into the small hours, pulling the occasional all-nighter and skipping meals because she was too busy, too tired to trek down to the mess hall. John doesn’t let her get away with that now and she reassures him it is just until they all get settled back in.

John snuggles closer, his arm trailing lazily around her waist as she lies flat  on her back and she laces her fingers through his, bringing his hand up to her lips, kissing it softly.

_Just until we all get settled back in._ It’s the same excuse she uses for not telling him about the baby and she hates herself for it.

John drifts off to sleep beside her, always looking so peaceful in his slumber and she threads her fingers through his hair, leaning down to kiss his temple softly before falling asleep.

She dreams, as always, of Atlantis. Not the Atlantis of now, but of a city still underwater and an expedition still fresh faced and free of death. She dreams Colonel Sumner lived and that Major Sheppard died at the hands of the wraith, that they all burned when the Replicators came.

When she wakes the sun is still rising in the sky and John is snoring softly next to her. The dream fades from her mind but when she gets up to go throw up in the bathroom (her new daily morning routine) she’s left feeling shaky and miserable.

Elizabeth is always up before John, so she’s managed to avoid having to come up with an explanation for why she keeps being sick. She turns the shower on and hops in, turning the temperature up all the way, but it still isn’t hot enough to wash away all her sins.

*

“Have you seen this?”

Elizabeth doesn’t look up from the report she is reading. It’s the tenth time she’s been interrupted in the last hour and she’s read the same paragraph seven times already. It’s not the easiest thing she’s ever read – Radek’s reports are filled with stilted English and she has to keep re-reading sentences to figure out what he means. It’s not the first time she thinks that it would be easier if he just wrote the damn things in Czech.

“Elizabeth,” John draws her name out. He’s moved closer to her, sitting on the desk and leaning over as far as possible, his breath hot on her face and she knows he’s trying to distract her. She ignores him and she can feel him pout more than see it as she nears the end of Radek’s report on water distribution within the city. It’s dull and boring and she loses focus easily when John’s fingers trail lazy circles on her arm.

“John,” she sighs heavily and leans back in her chair glaring up at him.

“Have you seen this?” John repeats waving his tablet under her nose.

“What?” she says, focusing on her own tablet absently and trying her best to at least maintain _some_ semblance of productivity.

“New personnel manifest that are coming in on the _Daedalus_ ,” John clarifies.

“Of course I’ve seen it, John,” she says. “I authorised it.”

"Yeah, but did you read all the names on it?" John presses.

Elizabeth sighs, forgoing all pretence of trying to get any more work done with him hovering over her. She shoots John her best 'are you stupid' glare.

"Of course I did."

"Even this one?" John asks, highlighting a name on his tablet.

Elizabeth rolls her eyes, knowing exactly what name he's focusing on. Gabby Tyler. _Doctor_ Gabby Tyler to be precise.

"Rodney requested her."

"And you think that's a good idea?"

"John," she says warningly, knowing full well his feelings towards Rodney's ex.

"I'm just saying," John says, "she's the one that trashed Rodney's project in Area 51. You really think it’s a good idea having her in Atlantis?"

Elizabeth pinches the bridge of her nose, a vain attempt at halting her impending headache.

"I wouldn't have approved it if I thought she would be a problem."

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you," he says.

"John," she warns but she's suppressing a smile. "Let it go."

He shrugs casually and she's tempted to stick her tongue out at him childishly. She had given Rodney free rein to pick out his new science team and Gabby had been on the top of his list. Apparently she is good with alien power sources or something. Elizabeth had only skimmed through his attached proposal about why she would be an asset to the expedition. He'd used it as opportunity to snidely remind her about the reasons why Atlantis would benefit from the three ZPMs. But if she was adamant that two of them were getting shipped back to Earth on the _Daedalus_ then Gabby was going to be necessary to help stretch out the remaining power source as much as possible. She'd signed it off without much hesitation - it was easier than starting an argument.

Unlike John, she has no concerns about Gabby viciously trashing someone's work (the IOA vetted everyone before they shipped them to another galaxy and their shrinks would have flagged up any concerns). She is more worried about Rodney falling for the young scientist again. Elizabeth doubts John’s concerns are to do with Rodney McKay’s heart though.

“Don’t you have work to do,” Elizabeth says, trying her best to ignore him. With off-world exploration temporarily postponed until all the Stargate teams can be finalised, John’s been at a bit of a loose end. He’s been training with Ronon and the new recruits from the first shipment of personnel from the _Daedalus_ , but she can tell he’s bored with the same monotony of his days, twitching to get off-world and do something exciting. He’s taken his boredom out on bugging her and Rodney intermittently. She doesn’t mind it mostly, but she’s ever conscious of the eyes that could be watching them, waiting for them to slip up.

“Fine,” John says heavily, taking the hint and backing out of her office just as Teyla makes her way along the bridge from the control room. “I wouldn’t,” John whispers conspiratorially to the Athosian. “She’s busy.”

Elizabeth rolls her eyes when he smirks in her direction. “Go,” she says firmly to him.

“I can come back later,” Teyla suggests.

“No, it’s fine,” says Elizabeth, “he’s just being awkward.”

“I see,” replies Teyla, but her forehead has creased in confusion.

Elizabeth indicates for the other woman to take a seat. “What can I do for you?”

“As you know, I’ve just returned from New Athos,” says Teyla settling into the seat in front of Elizabeth’s desk.

Elizabeth nods; both Teyla and Ronon have been going back and forth between Atlantis and the Athosian settlement, bringing the expedition back some food supplies and visiting their son. “You’re both still intent on staying?” she asks.

Teyla nods. “Both Ronon and I are looking forward to settling back into Atlantis.”

“Good,” Elizabeth says smiling. The two Pegasus natives are an asset that the expedition can’t afford to lose.

“Actually,” Teyla continues, “some of my people have shown an interest in returning to Atlantis with us.”

“Oh?” says Elizabeth in surprise. Teyla’s people, although always welcome on Atlantis, had always seemed to prefer the outdoor life. They were hunters and farmers, and life in the city, with all the Ancient technology being used, had seemed to unsettle them.

“Yes,” says Teyla, “some of them wish to contribute to the fight against the Wraith.”

Elizabeth raises her eyebrow at that. “You know that’s not all we do here, right?”

“Yes,” says Teyla smiling, “but I believe they could be useful.”

Elizabeth purses her lips in thought. The Athosians certainly had more knowledge of the planets in the Pegasus galaxy than any of the expedition members; they’d be useful when it came to setting up trade agreements and overcoming cultural barriers. The IOA may have a problem with so many outsiders roaming free around the city, but she feels that their benefit may outweigh the risks.

“Alright,” Elizabeth says as Teyla rises from her seat. “Send me a list of names and we’ll see how they might contribute.”

Teyla smiles widely but hesitates at the office door, turning to Elizabeth with a concerned look that makes her almost flinch under the scrutiny.

“Was there something else?” Elizabeth asks.

“I was just wondering how you were doing,” Teyla says kindly.

Elizabeth shrugs, feigning ignorance but she can tell the Athosian leader doesn’t buy it.

“Is the tea still helping?” Teyla asks.

Elizabeth glances behind the other woman in the direction of the control room, wary of anyone prying into their conversation.

“Yes, a little,” says Elizabeth and hopes her voice is firm enough to end the conversation there and then. But Teyla doesn’t relent and she can feel a discussion coming on that she really doesn’t have the time, or the inclination, to deal with. Something in her eyes must warn the other woman off because Teyla just smiles slightly and tells her she’s there if Elizabeth ever needs to talk.

The offer overwhelms her a little, and she can feel tears pricking at her eyes and she curses the hormonal changes within her body. She forces herself to finish Radek’s report with as much enthusiasm and professionalism as she deals with any of her paperwork, but her eyes can’t help but glance up at the retreating form of the other woman.

Teyla has been surprisingly kind and supportive and has never once pushed Elizabeth to explain the reasons behind her silence. Elizabeth doesn’t know why, but she’s grateful all the same to the other woman for keeping her secret. Even if she does feel shitty for putting her in the situation in the first place.

*

The _Daedalus_ arrives on time, beaming the new personnel into the gate room before landing on the south pier. Elizabeth insists on all senior members of staff being present to welcome their new recruits and she gives them a warm and friendly speech, welcoming them to their new home and advising them of the wonders and the dangers they will face during their time here in the Pegasus galaxy. Some of the faces are familiar, but there are a lot of new people amongst them too, and she wonders vaguely as she finishes her speech how many of them have been sent to be the eyes and ears of the IOA.

“How long have you been practicing that one?” John mutters in her ear when she’s finished and the new recruits start to break up into groups to be shown to their quarters.

“Shut up,” she mumbles back, blushing slightly as John grins cheekily at her. Speeches are her thing, but she always tries to keep them under ten minutes when the military are involved. She’s not always that successful, and John, the ever loving husband that he is, wastes no time in pointing that out.

“Rodney!” a voice yells from behind them and Elizabeth staggers back slightly as a flash of blonde hair rushes past her. John’s hand automatically reaches out to steady her and he turns with a frown in the direction of her stampeder.

Gabby Tyler grabs Rodney McKay by the face and plants her lips on his right there in the gate room, for everyone to see.

“Oh, not again,” Carson complains loudly, shaking his head as he leads his new medical team out of the gate room and heads in the direction of the infirmary.

“See,” says John, glancing at her smugly, “even Carson thinks it’s a bad idea.”

Elizabeth resists the urge to roll her eyes at him and has to side step as an angry looking Lieutenant Cadman comes storming past them.

“What’s her problem?” John asks. Elizabeth shrugs, but she spies Kate Heightmeyer, fresh off the _Daedalus_ , staring after Cadman with an odd look on her face. Before she can contemplate it further, Rodney appears in front of them, one arm around Gabby’s shoulder as he grins brightly at them.

“Here we go,” John mutters under his breath. Elizabeth shoots him her best side-long glare and mutters “be nice” out of the corner of her mouth.

“Isn’t this great?” Rodney says fervently.

“Not really,” says John. Rodney’s face falls.

“Welcome to Atlantis, Gabby,” Elizabeth says brightly, stamping the heel of her shoe into John’s foot.

“Yeah,” says John through gritted teeth, taking the hint, “welcome.”

As the two scientists move away, John makes an exaggerated show of rubbing his foot. “That hurt,” he complains with a pout.

*

John doesn’t let the whole Gabby thing go. In fact, he’s become almost obsessed about it to the point where it’s starting to drive Elizabeth crazy. She does her best to ignore it, but John brings it up whenever they are alone. She orders him to start giving the civilians basic training and hopes it keeps him occupied for long enough so that he’ll forget all about it. When he doesn’t mention the blonde scientist for over a week, she dares to hope her plan was successful, until he brings the subject up one day over lunch.

“Did you know she has McKay running around after her?” John says over a mouthful of turkey sandwich. “I found him in the east tower taking power readings yesterday. As if he hasn’t got enough of his own work to do. And I’m pretty sure he’s doing her laundry too.”

“John.”

“She’s got him wrapped around her little finger,” he complains.

“ _John_ ,” she says pointedly.

“Doctor Weir,” says a voice from behind John. “Colonel Sheppard.”

John visibly pales, swallowing his food with difficulty as he glances over his shoulder. “Doctor Tyler,” he squeaks.

Gabby raises an eyebrow at him as she balances her lunch tray in her hands. “Mind if I join you?” she asks.

“Please,” says Elizabeth, gesturing to the empty seat beside John.

Elizabeth bites her lip to keep from laughing as John turns back to her, shooting her a look as if to say _why didn’t you tell me she was behind me?_

“Actually, I was just leaving,” says John hurriedly as Gabby sits down.

“You haven’t finished your sandwich yet,” Elizabeth says frivolously, quirking her eyebrow at him impishly and knowing full well that he’d rather be anywhere than here.

John glares at her before mumbling something about finishing drills and makes a hasty retreat, almost running into Kate Heightmeyer on his way out.

Elizabeth understands his mistrust of Rodney’s ex. After all, she hadn’t exactly made the best impression the only two times either of them had ever met her. Between Rodney’s sexcapades in their guest bedroom and their interrupted wedding night, John has taken Gabby’s presence in Atlantis as a personal insult. But she does wonder if there is more to it than that, if John is worried about losing his friendship with Rodney now that Gabby is back in the picture, much like Rodney’s own concerns when she and John first got together. Not that either of them would ever admit it. They are both completely childish when it comes to admitting their feelings to the point where she feels like banging their heads together.

Elizabeth isn’t exactly innocent when it comes to her own opinion of the blonde scientist, however. In recent days, her opinion of the younger woman has vastly changed from that first impression of the perky blonde who was far too young to be on the arm of Rodney McKay. Elizabeth has always suspected Gabby is intelligent (and she had to be to be working at Area 51 with Rodney) but she hadn’t released how much until she started receiving the scientist’s reports. Whereas Radek’s reports are difficult to decipher due to English not being his native language, and where Rodney’s are long and convoluted and a little bit arrogant, Gabby’s are concise and to the point. Which Elizabeth is always grateful for as it avoids the inevitable headache and means she doesn’t have to go chasing the scientist up to find out just exactly what the report means and if Atlantis is going to blow up anytime soon (and considering Rodney’s past mishaps, the odds on that happening aren’t far off).

Kate takes John’s recently vacated seat, her eyebrow rising as Elizabeth, without thinking, tucks into John’s leftover sandwich. Her appetite has increased over the past few weeks, but this is the first time anyone has really noticed. Thankfully, Kate says nothing. Instead, she turns her focus to the youngest of the three women.

“Doctor Tyler, isn’t it? How are you settling in?”

Gabby finishes chewing her food before speaking. “It’s definitely not at all like Rodney described.”

Elizabeth starts at that, wondering just exactly when Rodney had “described” Atlantis to her. She mentally chastises the physicist and hopes to God that the IOA never finds out he was breaching national security during pillow talk.

“Well, if you ever need someone to talk to,” says Kate uncapping her water bottle, “my door is always open.”

“Uh, thanks,” says Gabby hesitantly.

“Don’t worry,” Kate adds, “I meant as a friend, not a shrink.”

Gabby smiles in relief and Elizabeth doesn’t blame her. She’s always respected Kate Heightmeyer, but that hasn’t stopped her from avoiding the psychiatrist on more than one occasion, even if she was ordering half the city to her office in the aftermath of the many crisis’s they had faced in the couple of years they had spent in Atlantis. The young scientist, however, is going to have to pay Kate’s office an official visit at some point – it is mandatory for all new expedition members after a month spent in Atlantis. That way, if anyone is getting too homesick or are struggling to cope with the dangers of the Pegasus galaxy, they can get the help they need before things get out of hand.

Speaking of which, Elizabeth is pretty sure she’s due her own official meeting with Heightmeyer and she suspects that the doctor had an ulterior motive for sitting at this particular lunch table. She supposes she doesn’t really have much of a choice. Being the leader of the expedition requires her to lead by example and she makes a mental note to make an appointment to check in with the psychiatrist as soon as possible. She’ll make John book one too. If she’s going to suffer, then so is he.

*

It takes a couple of months for things in Atlantis to go back to normal. Well, as normal as things can get in the Ancient city. Rodney is still working out a few kinks in the Ancient systems, courtesy of the Asurans and the only trips made off-world so far (apart from to New Athos) have been to re-establish old trade agreements and alliances. This has been met with varying degrees of difficulty and suspicion, however. Apparently, their miraculous return to the Pegasus galaxy and the destruction if the Replicators has garnered some scepticism and only the word of Teyla's new Athosian recruits has managed to convince their former friends of their authenticity.

Elizabeth sets up that appointment with Kate Heightmeyer and reminds herself of her responsibilities as Atlantis' leader. She keeps the meeting brief, but Kate has always been surprisingly easy to talk to and Elizabeth feels uncomfortable under her scrutinising eyes that always seem to see more than Elizabeth is willing to give away. Kate watches her steadily as Elizabeth tries not to fidget.

"Is there something specific you'd like to discuss?" Kate asks once they've got past the basics of 'how are you settling in?' and 'is there anything from home you miss?'

Elizabeth shakes her head, her mouth suddenly dry and her hands automatically covering her belly before she can think about it or stop herself. She hopes Kate doesn’t notice and is relieved of the subject change when Kate asks another question.

"What about John? It must be difficult; the two of you running the city together now that you are married."

“No, not really,” says Elizabeth. Kate looks at her like she doesn’t quite believe her. “Okay,” she adds slowly, “it is taking some getting used to.”

For one thing, being able to acknowledge their feelings, out there in the open for everyone to see, compared to before when they both had to pretend they were nothing more than colleagues. The freedom to be able to do that is nice, and there is a certain sense of relief at being allowed to be worried about John every time he goes off-world. Because let’s face it, when has he ever gave her cause _not_ to worry?

Elizabeth wonders about the true reason behind Kate’s question. A simple enquiry between friends or is the psychiatrist just doing her job? Or is their more to it? The IOA fishing for information, perhaps?

It’s a route Elizabeth isn’t sure she wants to go down. She doesn’t want to start questioning the loyalty of her friends, but she can’t help but be a little bit paranoid. It all seems too easy, her reinstatement in Atlantis, with John by her side. She feels like something’s got to give, and soon.

She makes her excuses and slips out of Kate’s office and she doesn’t think the psychiatrist is too offended by her hastiness to leave. Elizabeth thinks she is probably used to abrupt departures from her patients.

In her rush to get as far away from Heightmeyer’s probing as possible, Elizabeth doesn’t realise which corridor she’s ventured down and jumps when a sour Scottish voice barks her name from the infirmary.

“Carson,” says Elizabeth and tries to breeze past him. He doesn’t let her.

“Can I have a word?”

“Actually, I’ve got to…” She gestures in the general direction of the control tower and tries to move past him once again.

“No,” says Carson slowly, giving her his best pointed look, “you don’t.”

Elizabeth sighs. “Carson,” she starts, but he’s already taken her by the elbow and is leading her into one of the back rooms in the infirmary that he usually reserves for quarantine purposes.

Fortunately, the infirmary is almost empty, just a few nurses busy at work and she’s fairly sure she can use the excuse of going over medical supplies as a cover story if anyone asks. But no one does and Carson whips around to face her as soon as the door is firmly shut behind them. Judging by the stern look on his face, she is fairly positive there is no way she can play the boss card right now. He’s got his Chief Medical Officer face on and she has no doubt he’ll pull _that_ card if he has to.

“We agreed on weekly scans,” he begins.

“I know,” says Elizabeth.

“You haven’t stepped foot in this infirmary in over a month,” he continues.

“I _know_ , Carson,” she says.

“I really don’t think you do,” he snaps. “This is serious.”

“You said the nanites were still inactive,” says Elizabeth a little worriedly.

“Aye,” says Carson, “but that was over a month ago.”

That fear that she hasn’t felt since they took out the Replicators with the energy wave suddenly threatens to overwhelm her and she can do nothing but nod weakly at Carson and sit on the bed as he sets up the scanner. Carson says nothing as he goes about the procedure. She can tell from the stiffness of his shoulders that he’s pissed and she wonders if it’s due to her avoidance of him these past few weeks or if it is from something else.

Carson takes his time and she wonders if he is being deliberately slow, prolonging her fear until she can’t take it anymore. There’s that healthy dose of paranoia kicking in again and she wants to know if it’s a symptom of being pregnant or if all the stress of the past three years has finally gotten to her.

Finally, Carson shuts the scanner down and his tone is stiff when he tells her everything looks fine.

“But that doesn’t mean it won’t be,” he adds as she sits up. “I still want you in here for weekly check-ups.”

“Okay,” she says, “fine.” She knows she won’t hear the end of it if she refuses, that he’ll drag her in here kicking and screaming if he has to.

“Have you told John yet?” he asks and she stiffens.

Elizabeth clears her throat. “I haven’t found the right time.”

Carson scoffs. “Right time? We live in a bloody Ancient built city – there isn’t going to be a ‘right time.’”

His words ring true in her ears, but that doesn’t mean she is ready to listen to them.

“You’re not going to be able to hide this for much longer,” Carson says, more softly this time.

“I know,” Elizabeth says. She’s already three months along. It’s only a matter of time before somebody figures it out. And she’d rather John hear it from her and not somebody else. She trusts Carson enough to know he’d never break her trust, but Atlantis has always been notoriously bad at keeping secrets. It’s going to get out eventually, the gossip hounds will lap it up and she knows it won’t take long for it to reach John’s ears if it does. And God forbid if the IOA finds out first…

She pushes the thoughts out of her mind and doesn’t say anything more to Carson as she makes her way out of the infirmary, past the neat rows of beds and the mixture of Earth and Ancient technology. She wonders when she became this person, when it became so easy for her to lie to the people she loves the most. Elizabeth has done her fair share of lying over the years: the half-truths and bluffs across the negotiation table. The first time she told Simon she loved him because he had said it first and she felt she should say it back, even if she didn’t quite feel the same way, not then, not yet. The lies she told her mother about the work she has been doing over the past three years because she doesn’t have security clearance to know what her daughter _really_ does.

None of those lies had been difficult to cross her lips. They had been easy and necessary and part of life. But lying to John… lying to John hurts more than anything, like she is lying to a part of herself.

And though she knows John deserves better, _she_ deserves better too. She can’t do this alone, she knows she can’t. The very thought of what her future will look like in six months time terrifies her more than anything and she can’t imagine John not being there by her side.

As if he can sense what she is thinking, John _does_ appear by her side. Just looking at him makes her feel better and she realises what an idiot she’s been the last few weeks.

“Hey,” he greets her as she steps out of the transporter. “There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Here I am,” she says, kissing him softly on the lips. John’s eyebrows shoot up at her uncharacteristic public display of affection. She is surprised at herself for breaking her own unspoken rule of strictly keeping things professional whilst they are working. But she finds, right at this moment, that she doesn’t particularly care who sees them. She is just happy to see _him._

“What’s up?” she asks him.

“Don’t tell me you forgot,” says John.

Elizabeth wracks her brain, trying to recall if she’s missed a briefing but when she comes up short, she stares at John curiously.

“Your birthday,” says John.

“Oh,” says Elizabeth. She _had_ forgotten. Today is her birthday and she completely forgot. Trust John to remember. He’s never missed her birthday in all the time he has known her.

“Come on,” says John taking her hand, “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Elizabeth raises her eyebrow at him, wondering if he’s finally about to pay off on that puddle jumper fantasy that he’s been intrigued about ever since she mentioned it. But the sensible part of her cuts that thought off before it can go any further.

“I can’t, I’ve got work to do,” she says.

“It’s okay,” says John, tugging her along gently. “I checked with the boss and you’ve got the rest of the afternoon off. She’s cool like that.”

“John…” she says although she can already feel her resolve fading.

“Don’t worry,” says John reassuringly, “Chuck’s got everything under control and he’ll radio if there is a crisis.”

It only takes a small smile and the brush of his thumb against her hand for her to give in. He pulls her towards a transporter and they come out at the other end of the city, as far away from the control tower and the rest of the expedition as possible. John’s got a blanket laid out on one of the balconies overlooking the entire city and a picnic basket full of what, she presumes, is all her favourite foods. The city looks beautiful from this vantage point and she thinks it would look even more spectacular at night, with all the towers lit up in the night sky.

“You bring all the girls to this spot?” she teases.

“No,” says John slowly.

“Not even ascended Ancients?” she asks.

John scowls. “I’m going to kill Rodney,” he mutters and she laughs lightly. John’s past indiscretions with beautiful Ancients aside, she’s glad he brought them here, glad she’s here with him.

John tugs her down to sit on the floor beside him and starts laying out the food around them. He’s even managed to find something that looks close to chocolate cake and she glances at him in surprise, impressed.

“Grabbed all the good stuff before the vultures could get at it,” says John.

“By vultures, do you mean Rodney?” she asks grinning.

“Obviously,” he replies. “Also got this,” he adds, pulling out a bottle of wine. “Managed to smuggle it aboard the last _Daedalus_ supply run.”

“Actually,” she says, stilling his hand as he makes to open it. “We probably shouldn’t – in case there’s a crisis.”

“Right,” he says and looks a little disappointed.

“But this is nice though, really,” she reassures him and he smiles a little.

But she knows that the threat of a crisis isn’t the real reason she stopped him from opening that bottle and she asks herself again why she hasn’t told him, why she is so scared to tell him. John is the only person in two galaxies who she feels wholly safe with, who she knows will have her back and support her through this and be there, be _John_ and be actually great at it. He is going be a great father. She knows that just from watching the way he’s been with baby Torren over the past few weeks.

“John, there’s something I need to tell you,” she says, her mouth working before she’s even really decided she is going to tell him. But before she can continue, her radio crackles into life in her ear.

“Doctor Weir?”

It’s Major Lorne, sounding apologetic even over the static of the radio.

“Yes, Major?” she says, trying to mask her annoyance even though she is not at all surprised by the interruption. It’s almost as if the universe is out to get her, mocking her just when she feels like she’s about turn her life back on track.

“We have a situation,” says Lorne. “You better get up to the control tower.”

*

Major Lorne’s team have been tasked with re-establishing trade agreements with their former allies, the Numals. Although the Numals themselves are only able to offer them a small supply of their planet’s version of rice, they are close friends with many other Pegasus planets that they can’t afford to get into bad blood with if their relationship with the Numals goes south.

Lorne briefs her and John on the situation. Apparently, when Lorne’s team had ventured through the Stargate, instead of the warm welcome they were used to from the Numals, they were greeted with hostility. The Numal's new leader wasn't too thrilled by their presence on his planet and he had made that clear as soon as Lorne and his team and been brought before him.

"He says he won't even consider establishing negotiations until he's talked to you," Lorne tells her.

Elizabeth can feel John stiffen beside her and she glances at him out of the corner of her eye. He doesn't look pleased about this idea, she can tell.

"Why?" Elizabeth asks.

Lorne shrugs. "Maybe he wants to talk leader to leader."

"Nah, that's not it," Cadman says. Elizabeth turns her attention to the Lieutenant. "This guy, Sari, wouldn't talk to Lorne, or Frisk or Kripke, but he talked to me."

"So?" says John.                 

"I think," says Cadman slowly and Lorne shoots her a look, "that he only responds to woman."

Elizabeth's eyes turn to Lorne questioningly and he shrugs. "She may have a point," he says.

"Well, then," says Elizabeth. "Looks like I'm taking a trip off-world."

John waits until Cadman and Lorne have left the conference room before he rounds on her.

"Are you nuts?" he says.

"John," she says warningly. "This isn't my first negotiation."

"That's not the point," says John. "This guy sounds hostile; you shouldn't be going anywhere near that place."

Elizabeth resists the urge to roll her eyes and wonders if he would still have made this protest over a year ago, when their relationship was strictly professional. But then, they had both always been overly protective of each other, and for good reason.

She can tell he's more worried than angry about her decision, but she feels she doesn't really have any choice. They can't afford to lose this ally, not with the Pegasus galaxy still so hostile around them. She could send Teyla, she supposes, but she's never liked the idea of sending someone else to do all the talking for her when she is perfectly capable of doing it herself. She doesn't doubt Teyla's skill for negotiation, but on the other hand, she doesn't want to risk insulting the Numals by sending someone else in her place.

John stares at her for a long moment before shaking his head and running a hand through his hair, making it stick up even worse than before and she has to resist the urge to reach over and flatten it for him.

"Fine," he says when he realises she isn't going to back down, "but I'm coming with you."

She tries to object to that. It isn't a good idea for both of them to be gone from Atlantis at the same time. But the look he gives her stifles any argument she could give.

"That's not up for discussion," he says stiffly.

"Fine," she snaps more harshly than she intends and she realises it's the first real argument they've had since coming to Atlantis. That it's sprung from John's overprotectiveness more than anything else takes the edge off it a little and she finds herself taking a step towards him, her hand brushing his arm soothingly.

"It'll be okay," she reassures him. "It's just a simple negotiation, you'll see."

John grunts in agreement, not entirely mollified by her words and she leans up to kiss his lips softly in an attempt to wipe the worry lines off his face.

"Nothing is going to go wrong," she tries again and John's arms tighten around her waist, pulling her towards him so he can deepen the kiss.

_Nothing is going to go wrong_. She has no idea just how mistaken she is about that.

*

She's finishing zipping up her tac vest when Carson finds her.

"Have you lost your bloody mind?" he whispers harshly.

Fortunately, the rest of the team accompanying her off-world are already in the gate room, so it's just her and Carson in the small room that houses the off-world equipment.

"Carson-" she begins, but he cuts her off.

"You have no right going off-world in you condition," he says.

"Excuse me?" says Elizabeth. She can feel several week’s worth of righteous indignation and stress spilling out of her as she rounds on the surly Scotsman.

"I am the leader of this expedition," she says carefully, "and I decide who has the _right_ to go off-world and who doesn’t."

"Aye, and I'm the Chief bloody Medical Officer," Carson retorts, "and I can have you grounded on medical terms, as you well know. This isn't just about you, Elizabeth," he adds a little bit more softly.

"No," she agrees, "it's about what's best for this entire expedition."

She leaves before he can reply to that and she has to take a moment to breathe before she can face going into the gate room. The truth of Carson's words ring in her ears, but she feels she has no choice. She is the leader of this expedition. She has a duty, a responsibility to the people under her.

_But that's not my only responsibility now, is it?_ she thinks and almost decides to back out there and then. But then she spots John in the gate room, waiting for her, and she's strengthened by the mere proximity of him. Nothing is going to happen to her, or their baby, out there. Not with John protecting them.

Carson doesn't say anything, but he stares at her coldly when she glances up at him before she steps through the Stargate.

*

The Numals have a welcome party waiting for them on the other side of the gate. John sticks close to her as she steps forward to greet them warmly and they lead their little group of four to the main building in their little village.

John had wanted more marines on their trip, but Elizabeth doesn't want to give the Numal's new leader the wrong impression. They are here to broker a peaceful trade agreement, not start a fight, and in her experience, the more guns you bring into a situation, the higher the chance of a gunfight breaking out. That hasn't stopped John from gripping a P-90 in his hands and scanning the area as if he is expecting trouble.

She rests a hand on his arm soothingly when he tenses as they walk past a row of what she presumes to be security guards, going by the large, alien looking guns they are all carrying.

"I don't remember these guys being so heavily equipped last time," John mutters, eyeing the dangerous weapons warily as they walk past.

Elizabeth frowns. Neither does she. She recalls the Numals as a friendly and peaceful race who led a simple life as farmers. The guns were new, and she wonders if it's the influence of this new leader of theirs or something else. Something that has them scared enough to start arming themselves to the teeth with weapons that are way beyond their current technological means. The guns look similar to Wraith in design and she wonders how the Numals managed to get their hands on them.

The building they come to is a two storey tall monstrosity made out of grey concrete that is already stained green with moss and weathered by time. The building stands out against the rest, the only one in the village so tall and not made of wood and cloth tarps. _Another new addition to the Numal's way of life_ , she thinks. John glances at her as she takes the building in and she can tell he doesn't like this whole thing one bit.

"This way," says one of the Numals who greeted them at the gate, and gestures for Elizabeth to follow him inside. "I'm afraid your men will have to wait outside."

"I don't think so," says John and visibly tightens his grip on the P-90 in his hands.

"Archon Sari was very clear on the issue," says the Numal, glancing at John guardedly.

"Oh, I think I can be very clear too," says John, taking a menacing step forward.

"John," Elizabeth says warningly. He stares at the Numal for a few more moments before taking a step back.

"Surely the Archon cannot expect me to initiate negotiations alone when he himself is surely to have his aids in there with him," Elizabeth says reasonably.

The Numal looks at her for moment, taking in her calm demeanour, her visible absence of any weapons and bows his head. "Very well," says the Numal eventually, "but just him." He gestures to John. "And he must leave his weapons here."

"Very well," says Elizabeth and gestures for John to do just that. From the look he gives her, she can tell he's not happy about this turn of events, but he hands over his weapons to their two marines all same, telling them to keep an eye out for trouble before following Elizabeth and the Numal wordlessly inside.

Contrary to the building’s bland exterior, it looks very grand inside and Elizabeth finds herself impressed, despite herself, at the ornateness of the decor. It reminds her of Victorian era gothic and again, it's in stark contrast to the rest of the Numal's village. The interior even has electricity, powered by a generator, she thinks, going by the flickering lights. Another addition that was definitely not present on their last dealings with the Numals.

John sticks close to her as the make their way through the building, so close that she can feel his breath on the back of her head.

The Numal stops them outside a heavy looking set of wooden double doors. He asks them to wait and slips through one of them delicately.

"I don't like this," John mutters. She glances at him curiously. "My spidey senses are tingling," he clarifies. She rolls her eyes at him but it doesn't stop the apprehension sitting heavily in her heart. John's been in plenty of tough scrapes, seen enough simple missions turn rapidly sour, to have good instincts on these things. And she's never once doubted his instincts, even if her own are telling her that leaving the two marines outside is the best course forward. She watches as John reaches absently for a 9mm that isn't there and knows he's itching for any sort of weapon, anything at all really, to defend them with.

The Numal returns momentarily and gestures them inside, announcing them to the short, tubby man lounging lazily on one of the most pretentious thrones Elizabeth has ever seen. The man can't be older than twenty, she thinks. Despite his girth, his face betrays his youth with its puss filled pimples and blackheads scouring his face.

"Lord Archon," says their guide, "may I present to you, Doctor Weir and Colonel Sheppard, from the city of Atlantis."

The Archon doesn't pay them any attention, instead gestures for one of the young girls (dressed scantly in nothing but a white toga) to feed him what looks like, from this distance, a bunch of grapes.

"Lord Archon," says Elizabeth delicately, "it is an honour." She bows slightly and nudges John to do the same. He inclines his head reluctantly, but nothing more than that.

The Archon finally acknowledges their presence and bats his servant away from him. "Away with you, girl," he says harshly. To Elizabeth he says, "Come closer. Let me look upon the fine woman I am to do trade with."

She can feel John tense up beside her at the Archon's words, but she silences him with a look before he can comment on it and steps forward towards the throne.

"Ah, yes," says Archon Sari, "you are as divine as my people would lead me to believe."

"Thank you," says Elizabeth, although she has to stop herself from visibly cringing at his words. She wonders how a man-child, as sleazy as he appears to be, could possibly have become the leader of this village and surrounding areas.

"Your man, however," Sari spits, "leaves a lot to be desired."

"You can talk," John mutters behind her.

"Lord Archon," says Elizabeth quickly, "as delightful as these pleasantries are, I am here to negotiate trade agreements. So why don't we get started?"

"Ah, yes," says the Archon lazily. "Trade." He picks at some dirt under his fingernails, looking bored, as if their appearance before him is a large inconvenience.

Trying to mask her impatience, Elizabeth tries again. "Our two peoples got on very well before," she begins.

"Yes," the Archon agrees, "but that was before."

"And now you'd like to renegotiate our previous agreement?" she surmises. Their previous trade with the Numals had consisted of tools and radios, means to make their lives as farmers that little bit easier. But now she suspects that this Archon wants something more than mere tools. He has already acquired himself guns and electricity and she wonders absently what he could possibly hope to gain from them that he doesn't already have.

"Why don't you just cut to the chase, pizza face," says John, "and tell us what you want."

Archon Sari stares at him coldly. "You dare to insult me?"

"John," Elizabeth says before he can open his mouth and get them into more trouble. She turns her attention back to the Archon and takes a step closer, hoping she sounds as appeasing as possible. "Lord Archon, Colonel Sheppard had no intention of insulting you, I assure you," she says.

"Lies!" the Archon barks and Elizabeth jumps as his voice echoes around the large room. "Look at him," he adds, "he does not wish to trade."

Elizabeth glances at her husband and understands why the Archon is so affronted by his presence. John looks as if he's ready to pounce. His alpha male protective streak is getting them nowhere. It was a bad idea letting him come in here with her, she thinks belatedly.

"Please, Lord Archon," says Elizabeth, "why don't you tell me what it is you wish to trade."

Something in her manner and her tone must convince him, because he stops glaring at John and turns his attention back to her. The look he gives her is avaricious and she silently pleads for John not to take the bait. She can handle a bit of leering. It won't be the first time she has dealt with it over the negotiating table.

"I understand you have a certain number of small ships," says the Archon, leaning back on his throne and placing the tips of his fingers together as he studies her.

"Where did you hear that?" Elizabeth asks, keeping her tone light and giving nothing away.

"An associate of mine," says Archon Sari. "I believe you've met him, Doctor Weir - Acastus Kolya is his name."

She stiffens as the name leaves the Numal's lips. It explains a lot. Why the Numals have suddenly got far superior technology than before. Kolya's been giving them weapons and information, and she wouldn't be at all surprised if Sari has already informed him of their return to the Pegasus galaxy and to Atlantis.

John's suddenly at her side, his hand on her arm, ready to drag her out of their at a moment’s notice. Sari's grinning at them from his throne and she doesn't like that look. She's seen it before on so many of their enemies and on the faces across the table at negotiations. It's the look that tells her they've just lost everything. She swallows hard.

"But why trade," says Sari, "when I can just take them all for myself."

*

The concrete building has a basement underneath, but it's more of a dungeon, she thinks as she and John are shoved into a cell, the door clanking shut behind them and the sound of the key turning in the lock is heavy to her ears.

"Well, that went well," she mutters. They are alive for now, which is a good thing, but she fears for the lives of their two marines and thinks they were probably taken out as soon as they entered the building.

John kicks at the only object in the room - a small wooden frame that can hardly be called a bed. It collapses under his foot and he curses under his breath.

"John, calm down," she says.

"I am calm," he says through gritted teeth. "When I get my hands on that kid, I'm gonna..."

"What?" she says. "Kill him with your bare hands? Before or after his guards shoot you?"

John slumps against the wall, some of the anger leaving him, but he still scowls darkly at the locked door. "This is a fucking mess," he says.

She agrees, but doesn't see the point worrying about it now. They are hostages for the moment, which means Sari will keep them alive for now. Until their usefulness runs out. Until he realises that Atlantis won't negotiate with terrorists. It's their standing order if either of them gets caught and she trusts her people to do the right thing. Besides, even if the Numals _did_ know the dialling sequence for Atlantis, they would never get past the iris.

John checks his watch. "We've got half an hour until we miss our check in with Atlantis," he says. "When we don't, Lorne will send in back up."

"What?" she says, staring at him. That hadn't been part of the plan. "John," she says and she can't keep the fury out of her voice.

"Look, I made a call, okay," says John. "It was a military decision, and I made it. Lorne will send in a team of marines when we don't check in and we'll get out of here."

She can't believe she's hearing this; that John went so blatantly over her head like this, after everything they've been through. "You completely disregarded my orders," she says carefully. "I said no marines."

"Yeah," says John, "well it's a good thing I did." He gestures wildly at their surroundings. "It was a bad decision to come here from the start."

"You're not saying that as my military commander, John," she says, "you're saying it as my husband."

"You're damn right I am," he snaps.

She closes her eyes, shaking her head. It was a mistake, not just coming here, but letting John come too. She should have known better and wonders if they could have avoided the jail cell all together if John hadn't pissed off the Archon. Or maybe she would be dead already. She doesn't know. What she _does_ know, is that they can't do this again. Can't go off-world together and expect things to run smoothly. She understands more clearly now than ever the IOA's concerns over their leadership of Atlantis.

"I'm sorry," John says quietly.

Elizabeth opens her eyes and looks at him. He's still leaning against the far wall, arms crossed and staring at the floor.

"Don't," she says, taking a step back to lean against the wall opposite him. She feels suddenly light headed and the coolness of the wall seeps into her clammy skin but it doesn't do anything to fight the nausea in her lurching stomach. She tries to fight it, leans over with one hand on the wall for support, taking deep breaths.

"Elizabeth?" John says, the concern heavy in his voice.

"I'm fine," she says but even as the words pass her lips she's heaving her guts up. It's mostly bile and it tastes bitter in her throat.

"You're not fine," says John, immediately at her side. His hand runs soothing circles across her back and she takes comfort from the touch for a moment before straightening up and putting on a brave face. "Elizabeth," John says slowly. "What is it?"

"Nothing," she says shaking her head. She's still feeling shaky, so she leans back against the wall, sliding down until she's sitting on the floor, rubbing her thumbs against her temples. Another headache coming on and she makes a mental note to ask Carson about that later. If he's still talking to her, that is. If they make it out alive…

She knows the odds on that have narrowed marginally and it's a sobering thought. She could die here, on this planet so very far away from home. About twenty thousand light years away from Atlantis, and even further away from Earth.

But at least John's here too. At least she won't have to die alone.

_But I'm not alone, am I?_ she thinks. She's not been truly alone for three months. _Oh God, what the hell was I thinking?_ Carson was right... Carson was _so_ right. She should never have stepped foot off Atlantis. She should never have headed up a rescue mission to save the city from the Replicators either, but that was a moot point now anyway. She hasn't been thinking logically for months and now look where it has got them.

The nausea battles its way through her body again and she leans over, but this time there's not even enough bile and she's left dry heaving, her muscles convulsing throughout her entire body.

"You're really not okay," John says. He's got one arm around her before she realises, brushing the cold sweat off her face. "Are you sick?"

"No," she says, her breath shaky. She takes a few deep breaths, closing her eyes until the feeling passes. When it does and she opens her eyes again, John's looking at her worriedly and his close proximity is cloying. "I'm fine," she says again and gets up to prove her point. "Really."

Her feet are steady, thankfully, but John is still watching her carefully even as she retreats to the other end of the room to gain some distance, her back to him.

"Are you sure?" he asks and there's still that note of worry, that overprotectiveness that got them into this mess in the first place.

"I'm not sick, John," she snaps. "I'm pregnant."

The words leave her mouth before she can stop them and she wants so desperately to snatch them back from the air before they can reach his ears. _Not like this_ , she thinks. She hadn't wanted to tell him like this.

"What?" says John and when she turns around to face him he’s staring dimly at her and she imagines she can hear the cogs working in his brain. "You're telling me this _now_?"

"John-"

"Wait," he says and there it is. That little spark of light in his eye, like he's just figured something out. "How long have you known?" he asks and his voice has taken on a hard edge.

"John," she says again.

"How long, Elizabeth?" he says, his teeth grinding together as he tries to control his temper.

She folds her arms across her chest and finds she can't look at him, can't face that look of anger and betrayal, that spark of fear in his eyes.

"Since before Atlantis," she mumbles. "I found out in Russia, just before the Air Force called us in."

John shakes his head, the muscles in his arm's tightening as he clenches his fists. "I _knew_ ," he says. "I knew there was something going on with you. Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

"I-" she stammers, but she knows any excuse she can give won't be enough. She has no excuse really, nothing but her own fear and self-doubt and stupidity. "I was waiting for the right time," she says eventually.

"The right time," John exclaims. "And you pick this? Now?"

She flinches at the anger in his voice and hugs herself tighter. She wants to reach out to him, but knows he's a ticking time bomb right now, that he’ll shrug off her touch and that will hurt more than anything he could ever say.

"What the hell are we even doing here, Elizabeth?" he says. "What are _you_ doing here? Why the hell did you think going off-world was a good idea?"

She has no response to that and he knows it. She should have listened to Carson, should have listened to _him_ and his own instincts about this place, but she hadn't. Because she was Doctor Elizabeth Weir and she thought she could do anything. She thought she could always do right by her people, regardless of her own safety.

"I'm sorry," she says eventually and her voice is so quiet she doesn’t know if John can even hear her.

"Don't," he says, "just don't."

*

They sit in stony silence for hours. It must be well past the arranged check in time with Atlantis, but she doesn't ask, and John doesn't say anything, just sits and stares at the floor, brooding and ignoring her.

She feels like she should be crying or something right now, but she feels barely anything but an emotional void in her gut. The logical part of her, if it's still working properly, thinks she is probably in shock. When she comes out of it later, she knows she's going to feel every little detail of their fight. But right now, all she can do is sit and wait, wondering if they'll get out of this.

Shouldn't Atlantis have sent someone by now? Surely Sari hasn't convinced them that everything is alright, that their negotiations are running smoothly but just taking a little longer than expected? She doubts he's that clever, unless Kolya is here too. It's a thought that she doesn't want to dwell on too long, and doesn't have to when the cell door creaks open, interrupting her thoughts.

John is immediately on his feet and he moves so he's in front of her, shielding her from whatever is coming.

Two Numal guards step through the door. They hold their weapons tightly and give John a look that dares him to try something. Another Numal steps through, staring at the two guards and their guns warily before turning his attention to them. It's the same Numal from earlier, the one that led them from the Stargate to their meeting with the Archon.

He looks at them apologetically, but his eyes dart back and forth between the two guards and Elizabeth knows he dare not say anything in front of them that could potentially get back to the Archon's ears.

"Here to let us go?" John says hopefully.

"Ah, no," says the Numal. "I'm afraid not."

The lighting is poor down here, but she's fairly sure the Numal has turned slightly paler.

"I'm afraid you won't be leaving this planet," he adds and looks at them sadly, "ever."

John looks at her wordlessly as the two guards step forward. She reaches for his hand but one of the guards grabs her arm and all but drags her out of the cell and up the stone steps. The other guard has John close behind them and she glances at him over her shoulder. She can see his eyes darting about all around, looking for an opportunity, anything, to get them out of this. As if reading his mind, the guard brings the butt of his gun down hard onto the side of John's head.

"Don't even try it," he grunts.

John clenches his jaw but doesn't try anything. He wipes the blood away from his eyes and nods at Elizabeth to keep moving forward. She does so reluctantly, and it's only the tight grip on her arm that's keeping her upright at this point, dragging her along.

They are led outside and she blinks furiously in the harsh sunlight. And for a moment she can't see anything, just lets the guard guide her to wherever they are taking them. He leads her up wooden steps and when her eyes have stopped watering for long enough for her to see straight the sight before her snatches the air out of her lungs.

A gallows.

She stares blindly and doesn't even flinch when the guard ties her hands behind her back, hooking the noose around her neck.

She looks to the side. John's in a similar predicament, hands tied, blood trailing down one side of his face. Any anger he was feeling before is gone when he looks at her.

"Elizabeth," he says and his voice is cracking, like he's trying to hold back tears.

There are so many things she wants to say to him but she doesn't know how to get the words out past the noose around her neck. All she can seem to say is "I'm sorry" as she stares at him, as the tears finally fall, as she waits for her world to end.

John shakes his head. "I love you," he says, his eyes, his beautiful brown eyes, bright and watery.

She says it back but it doesn't feel like enough. It's not all she wants to say. She wants to say how much he means to her, how much better her life has been with him in it, even before the Replicators came and he was just a friend, a colleague. She wants to say how she couldn't have done any of this without him, couldn't have run Atlantis and survived, couldn't have kept going after so many casualties, after so many losses. He's made her a better person in so many ways, filled her life with a joy she can't describe.

She looks at him, wanting to say all of this but can't, can't get the words past her throat.

"It's okay," John says like he knows all of it, like he wants to say it too. It's always been that way with them, with _him_. Words have never been needed. They just _know_. They always have, right from the very beginning when this thing was brewing between them, when neither of them acknowledged it. But it was always there. It was there in the way she worried about him and his team more than anyone else in Atlantis. There when she refused to leave his side when he was turning into an iratus bug before her eyes, losing himself even as she tried to remind him of who he was. It was there when Kolya first took her and then him; when the Wraith fed off him again and again and she could do nothing but watch, helpless, as she let it happen. It was there when he refused to let the Replicators take over her mind, when he risked his own life to fight right there alongside her.

They had never given up on each other, always fighting until the bitter end, never letting the other go.

Except now she feels like she has done nothing but let him down over the past few months. And now she can't take that back. There's no time left, for either of them.

She finds she can't look at him like this, can't watch his last moments tick away when there is nothing she can do about it. She looks away into the distance, watches as Archon Sari steps up to a podium to address the gathering crowd down below. The effort to get his large gait up the step takes the wind out of him and his voice is breathless as he begins to list their crimes and promises that justice will be served swiftly. He manages to keep the arrogant drawl in his voice, even as he struggles to breath and  the crowd cheers at his words, but she can barely hear it, it's like water in her ears, like she's looking at the world through steamed up glass and nothing looks clear. Her vision has turned to grey, all the colour leached out of the world as the guard behind her tightens the noose around her neck. She knows that beside her, the same thing is happening to John.

Elizabeth stares ahead, keeps her chin up. She will not let these people see her composure fall now. The crowd jeers in delight when Sari gives the order to execute them. That's when she sees it. A blaze of colour amongst all that grey.

A flash of brown skirts past the edges of the crowd, edging towards them. She follows it even as she hears the creak of wood around her. The ground gives out beneath her feet just as Ronan fires his gun at the nearest guard. The noose tightens around her throat with nothing to support her weight, digs into her wind pipe and it _hurts_ so much just to breathe.

There is noise all around her, but it washes over her, doesn't penetrate her, doesn't adhere to the thoughts in her head.

Isn't this the part where her life is supposed to flash before her eyes? But she doesn't see it, doesn't see the mistakes she made or the good she's done.

All she sees now is the future she won't have, the child inside of her that won't have a life.

She sees stars and Atlantis and everything that could be before her world goes black and she sees nothing no more.


End file.
